


How Dare You [ReidxReader]

by CatchYouInTheRye



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternative Universe - FBI, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Cocaine, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Mentioned Emily Prentiss, Opium, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Sad Spencer Reid, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Spencer Reid Fluff, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Spencer Reid Smut, Surprise Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, bau, dea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 65,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28637019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatchYouInTheRye/pseuds/CatchYouInTheRye
Summary: After Emily’s tragic death you’re recruited form your job at the DEA to join the BAU. You’re a good Agent but you often bud heads with your colleague Reid. Even though you are the last one Spencer wants to befriend, since you’re the one who came in for Emily, you seem to be the only one to actually look out and care for him. Things escalate when you notice that Spencer might have a drug problem.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 43
Kudos: 215
Collections: CriminalMinds FF





	1. What the fuck is your problem?

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is written from your perspective. However, I don’t like to read Y/N in a fanfiction and either try to avoid writing it entirely or use it sparsely. It, in my opinion, is a distraction. So, your name is Emily Byrne. [like the badass – I love you forever – main character of the show Absentia.] Hope you like that. :-)
> 
> If you're into Hotch x Reader: I have a completed spicy fanfic about that as well. Check it out!

Your desk is cleared. You are really doing this. A box filled with your personal belongings – three plants and a white hourglass, filled with black sand – you step into the elevator.  
A colleague gives you a last wave: “Bye, Byrne.”  
You wave back: “See you around.”  
Pressing the button to the lobby, you take a deep breath. You already handed in your gun and badge. You are no longer an Agent of the DEA.

The call came three weeks ago. SSA Rossi of the BAU was on the other end of the line. He said he followed your career. He said he would like you to come in for an interview. Of course, you know who he is. You also know the BAU. The job of a profiler always has always been appealing to you. Somehow, you never pursued it. Now it had pursued you.

The death of a team member let to your hiring. You only met your future boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner. And, well, Rossi on the phone. Hotchner was a tall guy with dark hair and only one facial expression: stern. You were nervous about how the team will react.

Early the next morning, you enter the bullpen of the BAU. You walk up to Hotchner’s office, he is the only one already here. “Good morning, Sir.” You hold your box with one hand to shake his with the other.  
“Good morning.” Without further welcoming words, he hands you over your badge and gun. You smile at you badge. It has FBI written on it in bold letters. You feel like your icon, Dana Scully. “Your desk is the last one on the left.” Hotchner tells you and points out of the window. _Alright, this conversation seems to be over._ You nod and step out.

While you are placing your plants on the table, you hear footsteps approaching behind you. Before you even fully turn around, someone tells you: “That’s Emily’s desk.” You close your eyes for a second and wipe the frown off your face.

Standing behind you, is a good-looking blonde man. Maybe early twenties. Pale, a leather bag over his shoulders, wearing chucks and mismatching socks.  
“Good thing, my name is Emily then.” You extend your hand: “Emily Byrne.”  
He stares at you, blinking a few times. When he snaps out of it, he just gives you a small wave and a tight-lipped smile: “I’m Reid.”  
You let your hand fall back to your side. _Oh boy._

“Oh wow! Had I known you’re this good lookin’ I had worn something more appropriate.” A fit, dark-skinned man comes over to you. You just stare at him; you don’t know what to answer. He offers you his fist. “Derek Morgan.”   
That makes you smile, and you give him a fist bump. “You transferred from the DEA?”  
“Yeah. Nice to meet you.”  
Reid is still standing next to you, eyeing you up and down without saying anything.   
A blond woman walks in next: “Hi, I’m Jennifer Jereau. Everyone calls me JJ.”   
You shake her hand: “Hi, JJ.”

Morgan pads Reid’s shoulder: “We have a narc in the building, maybe you want to cut back on that coffee-consumption.”  
You smile and say: “As long as the beans aren’t smuggled, we’re cool.” Morgan laughs, but Reid keeps quiet. So, you add: “You may, however, overdose.”  
Morgan raises an eyebrow: “You can overdose on coffee?”  
“Oh yeah. At 1g caffein it starts to get dangerous. But with 40mg caffeine in 100g coffee and about 12g coffee per cup, you can still drink…”  
“20.8 cups of coffee.” Reid interrupts you.

You bite your tongue. You hate being interrupted. “A lethal dose is about 10mg. I don’t know how long you have to stay awake, but that would be a lot of coffee… Still better than cocaine though.” You add.  
“Did someone say cocaine?” A familiar male voice says.   
“Agent Rossi.” He actually takes your extended hand and shakes it. You hear a door open behind you. “We have a case.” Hotch calls.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch declares and everyone gets up. “Shit.” You mumble. JJ leans over: “What’s up?”   
You shake your head: “I didn’t bring an overnight bag.  
Reid seems to have heard what you said, he scoffs at you and walks out. You sigh and rub over your face: “I didn’t expect to fly out on my first day.” JJ smiles understanding: “Welcome to the BAU.” Then she adds: “We’ll figure something out when we land.”   
You are visibly relieved when you tell her: “Thank you.”

Everyone piles into the elevator, carrying their bags. You feel somewhat naked being the only one without one. On the way to the jet, Hotchner asks: “You didn’t bring a bag?”   
You sigh internally and shake your head: “I forgot.”  
“Well, bring one next time.” He tells you.  
No shit. You turn your head away from him and roll your eyes.   
“What was that?” Hotchner asks.   
“I didn’t say anything.” You look at him and furrow your eyebrows. He stares at you for a moment but lets you be.

You don’t know where to sit on the jet, so you just take the seat next to JJ. When Reid stares at you with a grim face and what can only be described as fire in his eyes, you figure that it usually was Emily’s seat. The other Emily.

After you went over the preliminary file, you try to relax. It’s still hours until you land in Texas. Reid keeps shooting you looks when he isn’t re-reading the file. You finally give in and stand up. Mumbling something about coffee, you walk to the other end of the jet. This is not how you imagined your first case.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

You mostly keep quiet and try to follow the other’s lead when you arrive at the police station.   
“The tox-scan shows that every victim at fentanyl in their system.” Reid declares. “That’s an opioid.” You explain.  
“Yeah, I know.” Reid counters. You furrow your eyebrows, but before you can say anything Morgan says: “I didn’t, thanks.”  
Hotch’s eyes dart around the room until he proposes: “Maybe the unsub didn’t want to feel the victims what he was doing to them?”  
You extend your hand towards Reid: “Can I see the tox-screen?”   
He stares you down, not moving his hands. Stubbornly, you stare back, not letting your hand sink this time.   
Eventually Hotch says: “Reid.”  
After another second, he finally hands you the papers. “Thank you.” You tell him without breaking the eye-contact.  
You go over the toxicology reports, comparing the doses that were in every victim’s body. You shake your head while you’re reading in silence.   
“What’s taking you so…” Before Reid can finish his affront, you explain: “The unsub didn’t use the fentanyl to subdue their victims, they killed them with it. The doses are so high, it was lethal within seconds.”

You lift your head to look at the others: “You don’t get fenty this pure on the streets. It has to be someone with access to medical supplies.”  
The others are nodding, Morgan is calling Garcia: “Baby Girl, can you send us a list of medical personnel in the area that has a record of stealing medical supplies or similar offences in their file?”  
“Sure thing, Chocolate Thunder.” She chirps and hangs up.  
The corners of your mouth twitch, but you don’t comment on it.

“Are you sure there isn’t a local dealer that distributes pure fentanyl?” Reid questions your former statement.   
You clench your jaw but manage to answer calmly: “In my experience, there isn’t.”   
Hotch looks at you, then at Reid and says: “We will check out the list Garcia sent, you two track down local dealers and try to get some information on that.”

“Alright.” You state and holster your gun. Without waiting for Reid, you leave the room and make your way to the SUV in front of the police station. Before you open the door, you see a cop standing outside, smoking.   
You walk over to him and ask: “Can I have one?” He smiles and hands you a cigarette, leaning closer to light it for you.

After the first few puffs, Reid walks out, wearing his FBI jacket. You roll your eyes: way to go get meet some dealers. The cop notices and raises an eyebrow. You sigh and tell him: “We are trying to track down someone who deals fentanyl. The jacket won’t help with that.” The cop lets out a laugh and gives you an understanding smile.

Reid looks around for you and sees you smoking: “You coming?” He yells in a condescending tone.   
“I see why you need that cigarette.” The cop comments.   
You give him a smile: “Oh yeah.” After a pause you ask: “Do you know where I could get something stronger?”   
He side-eyes you: “Aren’t you about to arrest someone?”

You nod: “Yeah, but I won’t arrest someone I buy from.” He laughs and leans closer to your ear. Whispering, he tells you about an apartment on fifth street. You thank him and walk away, turning around for a moment to wink at him.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

When you get in the driver seat, Reid is already buckled in and waiting for you. He turns to look at you: “Could you organize yourself a hook-up after we solved the case?” Now he starts to seriously piss you off.  
“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap at him.  
“My problem is you.” He barks.

You really tried to stay calm, but now he pushed too far. You hit the steering wheel and turn to him: “Listen, I try to do my job here. I understand that you are angry and sad about your friend dying, but that is not my fault!”  
He huffs: “You don’t understand anything.”

You grip you’re the steering wheel tightly and take a deep breath: “Get out.”   
That surprises him: “What?”  
“I said: get out.” You point to the door of the car. He doesn’t move. You fasten your seatbelt and start the engine. “If you say something like that to me again, I will push you out of the car. Do you understand?” Your voice is quiet but aggressive.

Reid doesn’t answer you, but you can see him shift in his seat and lean away from you. You speed off without another word. You drive to were you assume the main street is and park in front of a clothing store.   
“You want to go shopping now?” Reid asks. At least his voice is less patronizing this time.

“Do you want to talk to dealers wearing your FBI jacket?” He shakes his head. “That’s what I thought.”   
You get out and Reid follows you quietly. With a basket in your hand, you walk through the store.   
“What’s your size?” You ask him casually. “Small.”   
It makes you grin for a second, but you don’t say anything. You get a sweater and black jeans for him. A loose tank top and dark slacks for yourself. At the checkout you grab an eyeliner and hair ties.

Outside you rip the labels off the clothes and throw them on the ground, dragging them through the dirt. When you’re satisfied with how they look, you throw them on the backseat and get back in. You park a few blocks away from where the cop told you about.

You get in the backseat and stat to take off your clothes, changing into the new ones. Before Reid can turn around to look at you, you throw his clothes at him: “Change.” You order. He sighs but does what you tell him.

You smudge the eyeliner around your eyes and put your hair up in a messy bun, revealing your undercut. Reid sees it and his hand twitches. He doesn’t say anything. “Let me do the talking.”

He follows you down the street: “How do you know of this place.”   
You don’t answer him but keep walking. “Oh.” Reid quietly says. “That’s what you talked to the cop about.”   
You give him a look: “What was your plan? Drive around in an FBI car and ask about drug dealers?”   
Reid looks to his feet, kind of admitting his defeat.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

You knock on the door. A man opens it, door chain still locked: “What?”  
“A friend recommended you.” You whisper. “Can I come in?”   
He looks at you, then at Reid. “Yeah, but the pipe cleaner with eyes has to wait outside.” You raise your hands: “Fine by me.”   
Reid is smart enough to not object.

You go inside and look around. The apartment is a mess. Empty bottles, overflowing ashtrays and needles everywhere. “Sit.” The man points to a sofa. Reluctantly, you sit down. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you have any fenty?”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t have taken you for the opioid type.”  
“And what type do you take me for?”  
He shrugs his shoulders: “I don’t have any anyways.”  
“Do you know where I can get some?”  
He shakes his head: “All you’ll find is spiked with some other shit.”  
“No one has it pure?”  
He shakes his head again. You rub your face and clear your voice: “You have some white girl?”  
“Ah, that’s what I thought. What do you want with fentanyl if you do cocaine?”  
You shrug your shoulders: “The party has to end eventually.”  
He kneels down by a safe and gets a small bag: “Wanna try?” You nod, but before you can take it from him, he says: “Sixty.”  
“Fine.” You grab into your bra and get out some money. You hand him sixty dollars and he gives you the cocaine. “May I?” You point at a key on the table. “Be my guest.”

Picking up the key, you clean it with your slacks and pour a small amount onto it. You snort it up with your nose and lean back into the sofa. With closed eyes you wait for it to hit. Your heartrate increases, feeling the cocaine pumping through you. Taking a deep breath, you stand up: “Nice making business with you.” He gives you a smile: “My pleasure.” Before you open the door, you put the bag and the money back in your bra.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

Reid follows you to the car quietly. You feel your body tense up and it hard for you not to fidget. You hand him the key to the car: “Drive.” He looks at you in surprise but gets in the driver’s seat. Getting in the backseat, you close your eyes. You try not to show how high you are right now. It was an impulse. You didn’t want to raise suspicion by questioning a dealer and then leave without buying. Taking some of the drug however… that was just stupid.

But it’s too late now; you might as well enjoy it. Should make it easier to deal with the asshole that’s driving you right now. When you feel the car stop, you open your eyes and jump out. You do it a little too enthusiastic and stumble. Reid clears his throat while you catch yourself on the side of the car. You ignore him and get your FBI jacket out of the trunk, throwing his jacket in his face.

When you enter the conference room with Reid, only Hotchner is standing there. “Where are JJ, Morgan and Rossi?” Reid asks him.   
Hotchner turns around: “They went to question pharmacists with a record of stealing drugs. Did you find anything?” Even though he is addressing the both of you, he is just looking at Reid.

You get out the small bag with cocaine in it and throw it on the table: “As I said, no one deals pure fentanyl.”

Finally, Hotchner takes a better look at you. His eyes dart between you and the bag on the table: “Did you pose as a buyer?”

“Yeah.” You shrug your shoulders. “Did you know this?” Hotchner points at the table and raises his voice, looking at Reid. Before Reid can say anything, you answer: “No. He had to wait outside. I talked to the dealer. I couldn’t just question him and leave.”  
“And your solution was to buy cocaine!?”  
You stare back at him without flinching at his angry voice: “Yes.”

Hotchner clenches his jaw, then he points at the adjacent office. You follow him inside. Loudly, you shut the door. He just looks at you for a moment.

Then he talks with a calm but evidently angry voice: “You can’t just go off on your own like that without back up. And you certainly cannot buy an illegal drug while you’re on the clock!”  
You narrow your eyes: “So, off the clock it’s alright?”

He crosses his arms: “I’ll do you the favor of pretending that I didn’t hear that. I don’t know how you handle these things at the DEA, but you will never do such a thing again while you’re a part of my team. Understood?”  
You take a deep breath and try to focus: “Yes, Sir.”

You finally answer and go to open the door. “And bag the cocaine as evidence.” Hotchner yells after you.  
You salute him and walk back into the conference room.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s hours later and the cocaine hasn’t fully worn off yet. Good stuff. Pity it’s registered evidence now. You’re restlessly pacing around the room until Rossi tells you to stop because you make him nervous. When you sit in a chair, you bounce your leg up and down until it hurts. You hyper-focus on the pictures in front of you. They show the crime scenes and bodies of the victims. Eventually, you declare: “It looks professional. I think someone ordered to have these people killed. Someone with access to medical supplies. Maybe even someone who produces fentanyl.”

When you look up, everyone is staring at you. “What?”

Reid shakes his head: “There is no evidence for that.”  
“Of course there is! Look at the crime scenes!” You forcefully slide the pictures towards him.

“The victims have nothing in common. They never crossed paths. Why would someone order to have them killed?” JJ tries to defuse the tension.

“I don’t know.” You rub your face.

“And why use fentanyl?” Reid adds.

“I don’t know.” You say again.

Hotchner gets up: “That’s not enough to back up your theory. It’s late. Let’s get to the hotel and get some rest.” You look at your watch, it’s merely 11 p.m.

You shake your head: “Go ahead, I’m not tiered.”

Hotchner stares at you but eventually nods. The others pack their things. You collect all the material off the table and put it in front of you.

“Good night.” Morgan tells you and you give him a small smile.

Reid lingers a little longer and leans down next to you: “Are you high?”

You turn your head: “Unfortunately, no.”

He raises an eyebrow: “You mean, not anymore?”

You sigh and turn your attention back at the files in front of you. There has to be something the victims have in common. You push the table to the side and put the chairs on top of it. Then you spread out every single piece of paper on the floor and sit down in the middle. You sort the victim’s files from first to last victim and go over everything again.

You pick up your phone to call Garcia. When she doesn’t pick up, you look at the clock: It’s 3a.m. Sighing, you throw your phone away. You get up and look around. You’re the last one in the station, except for someone at the reception. In the bathroom you wash your face and drink from the faucet. You put your hair back up and take off your jacket.

Turning off the lights, you take off your boots and lay down under the table, using your jacket as pillow. Your brain finally calmed down and exhaustion hits you like a truck. You get your phone again and set an alarm for 7 a.m.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

Just when your alarm goes off, you hear someone enter the conference room. “Byrne?” You hear Hotchner’s voice.   
You crawl out your makeshift bed and get up. “Did you sleep here?” His eyes are wide, and he sounds surprised.

“Barely.” You answer and yawn, stretching your arms and legs.

He looks at the files on the floor. The others pile in and stare at you just the same. You take the coffee Reid has in his hand: “Thanks.” You down half of it before you tell them: “I figured it out. At 3 a.m. I tried to call Garcia, but she apparently was asleep.”

Morgan walks past you to look down on the chaos on the floor. “What the hell did you do here, Byrne?” He laughs and sounds kind of proud.

You hand Reid his coffee back and step between the files. You pick up everything you need and walk to the board. You pin the papers with the statements of family and friends as well as the medical records to the board. “We thought they don’t have a connection, but they do: they all got a flue shot about two months ago.”

“A flu shot. That’s your big insight?” Reid has that condescending tone again.

“Is it a habit of yours to interrupt others?” You bark at him. His mouth falls open and you continue: “As I was saying: they all got flu shots. They were all made by the same lab. And now guess what that lab is also manufacturing.”

“Fentanyl.” Hotchner mumbles. You already have your phone in your hand, dialing Garcia’s number. You want to find out if the shots were administered by the same person.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re sitting at the back of an ambulance, holding an icepack to your head. The unsub hit you with a metal bar. You blacked out for a second but luckily don’t have a concussion, only a laceration. You persuaded the EMT to stich it on sight, so you don’t have to go to the hospital.

Hotchner walks over to you: “Are you okay?” You shrug your shoulders: “It’s fine, Hotchner.” That’s the first time you see the corners of his mouth twitch: “Hotch.”  
“What?”  
“Everyone calls me Hotch.”  
You let the icepack sink to properly look at him. His eyes dart to the bloody bandage above your eyebrow.

“I like Hotchner. It’s a nice name.” You state.

He offers you his arm and you grab it to pull yourself to your feet: “You did good.” He says quietly.

Letting go of his arm you grin at him: “I’ll put that in my diary.”

Hotchner shakes his head: “Don’t push it.” But his face betrays his stern tone: He gives you a genuine smile.

You punch his shoulder lightly and walk away. Before you get in the car, you yell: “Hotchner!” He turns to look at you. “Let me know when you need some cocaine.”

He sighs and walks away.


	2. Old and new scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new case, a new chance for Reid to annoy you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: description of blood/bleeding.

You wake up with a terrible headache. The alarm is ringing relentlessly. Groaning, you get out of bed. You splash cold water in your face, but your head still feels heavy. It was a bad night. Lots of nightmares. At some point, you gave in and took a sleeping pill. Apparently, it was too late at night, because now you could hardly see straight. Additionally, the laceration on your forehead isn’t completely healed yet.

Slowly, you get in the shower and try to rinse off the terrible feeling the night left you with. The hair at the back of your neck grew longer than you like it. You pin the rest of your hair up and get a razor to cut it short. It’s not a perfect undercut, but it’s fine. Downing a bottle of water, you get ready for the day at the BAU.

You put on black eyeliner, mascara, and some concealer to hide how bad your night was. You put on the jewelry that lays on your nightstand, including rings and ear cuffs. As long as you’re not in the field it should be alright to wear them. You holster your gun and put your FBI jacket on over your hoodie.

With your keys in one hand and your go-bag in the other, you jog to your car. Whereas most Agents drive a SUV even outside of work, you prefer your black Dodger. You speed off to get coffee before driving to the Bureau. Parking in front of a café, you sigh when you see who is in line a few people ahead of you: Reid.

You don’t know if you should try to ignore him and pretend you didn’t notice or walk over to greet him. If he didn’t have this shitty attitude towards you, you would probably actually like him. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he is still in a bad place because of Prentiss’ death. That’s no excuse to lash out at you like that but hey.

You skip the people in front of you and step next to Reid just when he is about to order. He notices you and hesitates. The cashier clears her voice, and he turns away to order.   
You tell her: “Same for me.” Then you pay for both your coffees. Reid doesn’t thank you or say anything about you suddenly appearing next to him. The both of you stand in silence while waiting for your order.

Outside the café, you ask: “Do you live nearby?”   
For the first time, since you met, he properly looks into your eyes: “Yes.”

You like his eyes. They are kind but in their depth sadness lingers. “How do you get to the office?” You keep staring at his face.

His features soften slightly. His lips part and the muscles of his jaw visibly relax. The frown on his forehead disappears for a moment. It’s back when he tells you: “I walk or take the metro.”

You gesture towards your car: “Can I give you a lift?”

There is conflict in his eyes. He pauses. “I understand if you would rather like to walk.” You add, slowly walking towards your car. Reid keeps standing still like he his frozen to the pavement. You get in and put your coffee in the cup holder. Then you lean over to push the passenger seat door open. “Come on.” You yell.

Finally, he moves and gets in the car. His legs are too long, and you have to lean against him to adjust the seat. He presses himself into the seat like he is trying to escape our touch. You turn the key and your car roars to life. Backing out of the parking spot, you look over at Reid. He is fidgeting with his cup. “We don’t have to talk.” You assure him and turn on the radio.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

In the elevator, Reid seems to have mustered up the courage to turn to you and say: “Thanks.”

You give him a smile: “You’re welcome.”

After a few moments of silence, he blurts out: “I like your hair.” Now you’re surprised.

You look at him, but he is staring down at his shoes. A genuine smile spreads on your face: “Thanks for telling me.”

The conflict between the two of you isn’t solved just like that. But you definitely are glad that you got him coffee. After putting down your bag on your desk, you take your plants to water them at the sink in the small kitchen of the office.

“Hey.” You twitch at JJ’s voice.

“Oh, sorry.” She laughs.

You turn to her: “Morning.”

Back at the desk your headache comes back with a vengeance. You search through your bag and find painkillers. With a swift movement you down two of them.

Hotchner comes out of his office and stalks down into the bullpen. Under his arms are files.

“Morning, boss.” You greet him.

“Byrne.” He nods at you. The others mumble a “Hey, Hotch.”

He starts to hand out the files: “Those are our last cases, please go over the files review everything.”

The three of you start to read the files and slide two of them to Morgan’s desk who comes in just minutes later. Silently, you work, just the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional rustling of a sheet being turned is audible.

Absentmindedly, you keep rubbing over the partially healed wound on your forehead. Suddenly, you feel something wet on your eyebrow. Then a red drop falls onto the paper in front of you. “Shit.” You curse.

The others look up. Reid sits vis-à-vis you and his eyes widen. You bring your hand up to your forehead and feel the wetness spread. “Fuck.” You get up from your seat to run to the bathroom. Then you realize that you don’t know where the bathroom is.

You look around, slightly panicked. Desperately, you try to stop the blood from getting in your eye. Reid is the first one to understand what’s happening.

He jumps to his feet: “Over here, come on.” He quickly walks towards you and out of the office. Cursing, you follow him. He turns right and then right again. At this point your heart rate is through the roof. It triggers you to feel the blood running down your face. You try to control your breathing.

Reid holds the door open for you and you stumble to a sink. You lean down and turn on the faucet. You leave a bloody print on it. Your breathing hitches. With shaking hands, you wash your face. You can smell the blood and get sick to your stomach. It’s not even that much, but you somehow managed to smear it all over your face.

When you raise your head, you look like a mess. Your eyeliner is smudged. and your face has a red tint to it.

“Here.” Reid entered the bathroom without you noticing and offers you a paper towel. You take it and press it against your forehead. You take another and clean up your eyeliner. “Thank you.” You breathe out.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re leaning back in your chair, icepack against your wound. You put on a bandage and try to relax.

“Are you sure, you’re okay?” Hotchner asks you worried.

“I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” You take a few deep breaths and open your eyes. There is still a drop of blood on the report. Morgan hands you a tissue. You clean it as best as you can and continue to work on it, one hand pressing the ice against your forehead.

It almost looks like you get to go home, but at 5 p.m. Garcia walks in: “We have a case.” Groaning you get up and pile into the conference room.

You’re on your way to North Dakota, the jet flying against time. It’s 5 p.m. again when you arrive in Minot, but your body isn’t fooled and gets tired. Still, you drive to the police station to get filled in on the case. The already evident dark circles around your eyes get even worse. It’s difficult for you to listen to the cops. Somehow, the others don’t seem to have a problem with the time difference. Maybe they are used to it. Or they simply got a proper night of sleep.

You’re relieved when you finally get to the hotel. You immediately run off to your room. Discarding your clothes on the way to the bathroom, you yawn nonstop. You wash your face and moisturize it before falling into the bed. Your so exhausted that you fall asleep within a few minutes.

_Water. A tank. Someone hits your face. Your back hurts._

Breathing heavily, your sit up in your bed and turn on the light. It takes you some time to figure out where you are. Your body slowly relaxes. Sighing, your lean against the headrest. It’s five in the morning. You get up and collect the clothes you scattered around the room. You put on fresh briefs and pull up your jeans. You run your fingers through your hair to detangle it a bit and put it back in a bun.

It’s cold outside and you hug yourself. In the lobby you find a vending machine and get a coke. You sit down in an armchair and stare out of the window. Legs up on the table, you let your mind wander. Of course, you think about Reid. There is something intriguing about him. You see something of yourself in him. You have yet to figure out what it is you see. When the can is empty, you open the case file you brought. Sitting up, you spread it on the table and go over it. There isn’t really much. Several abductions, some of the bodies turned up, some are still missing.

“Do you ever sleep?” A dark voice asks from behind you. Hotchner sits down in the chair next to you.   
You look at him and back at the pages: “Not if I can avoid it.” You answer his question. It’s almost six and you didn’t really find out anything. “When are we supposed to leave for the police station?”

Hotchner raises his eyebrows: “Seven.”

“Hm.” You nod. “Why are you up then?”

He stares you down like he wants to say something about him not having to explain himself to you. “Get a head start.” Hotchner tells you eventually.

“What sport do you do?” You meet his gaze. He looks confused. “There is a gym downstairs.”

“Oh. Anything goes.” He shrugs his shoulders. You smile at him: “Wanna punch something?” He lets out a laugh.

“I’m serious.” Raising your eyebrow, you wait for his answer.

Hotchner sighs: “Why not.”

“Great.” You grin at him.

Ten minutes later you are in work-out clothes on the mat together. You’re wearing boxing-gloves, Hotchner pads in his hands to catch your punches. “You’re shaky.” You tell him, bouncing around him, hitting the pads now and then.

“Don’t want to hurt you, you’re still injured.” He counters.

“Alright.” You tilt your head and go at him full force. He has to walk backwards to not fall. You only stop when he breathes out: “Okay, okay. Jeez Byrne.”

Using your teeth to open the gloves, you step away from him. “Your turn.” You hand him the gloves. Expectantly, you raise your hands and wait for his punches.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

When you meet the others at the SUVs your cheeks are still flushed and your wrists somewhat sore. You repeatedly shake your hands and make a fist to relax them. Hotchner looks similar.

Morgan looks at you: “Did you two beat each other up?”

Deadpan, you answer: “I’d say I beat up Hotchner, but he will deny that.” Reid stares at you but when you look at him, he turns away.

It’s noon when you decide that you probably have to lure the unsub out. All the victims went to the same bar; hence you have to go undercover there.

“You’re his type.” Hotchner points at you.

“Or her.” You add.

“Or hers.” He admits.

“I think Reid should go with me.” You state. Reid looks at you dumbfounded. “Morgan will intimidate the unsub and, no offence, but Hotchner and Rossi will look out of place.”

JJ nods: “I agree.”

“Good.” Hotchner approves. “Go get some clothes. We will prepare the surveillance.”

You nod and once again you and Reid walk out together. “I didn’t expect the amount of shopping this job would include.” You comment.

“Neither did I.” Reid mumbles.

You look at him: “You don’t go undercover often?”

Hesitantly, he shakes his head. “Hm.” You keep walking. He’s smart. He’s good at observing. Is his appearance the reason he gets sidelined? He’s handsome, why… _Whoa. Handsome? Where did that come from?_

You get changed in the bathroom of the police station. It’s unisex, so Reid and you dodge taking off your clothes in front of each other by changing in the stalls. The zipper of your dress is still open when you step out. Reid is wearing a black dress shirt and dark jeans, getting to keep on his sneakers. You halt in your steps to look at him. He notices your stare and his cheeks flush. Oh.

“Could you help me with the zipper?” You turn around.

“S-Sure.” Reid stutters and steps closer. You know he hesitates because he is looking at the scars on your back. You can feel his eyes wandering it up and down. He clears his voice and does as you asked.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

“We have eyes on you.” Hotchner tells you and Reid in the back of the surveillance van. “Morgan and JJ will be near the door.”

You nod. “Let’s go Reid.”  
It’s dark outside and you walk up to the entrance of the bar. In front of the door, you ask: “Can I touch you?”

His eyes widen, he apparently didn’t think about that part. “Y-Yeah ok.” You take his hand.

Only when you sit down at the bar you let go. His fingers run over your palm.  
The barkeeper walks over, and you order. You look around and find JJ and Morgan at a table next to the door. There is a decent amount of people here. More than you expected for a Thursday evening. You drinks arrive and you take a sip. Reid doesn’t touch his. “You should at least pretend to drink some of it.” You say.

“You don’t need to tell me how to do my job.” You flinch at the sudden change in his demeanor.

“Okayyyy.” You take another sip. “Toilet.” You tell him and get up.  
The cold water running down your wrists calms you down a little. You check out the bandage on your forehead. It’s small and barely visible in the dim light of the bar.

You curse. Reid really had you thinking that he maybe likes you. “Idiot.” You chide yourself. Apparently, he just got it together for when you’re around the team.  
You really want to be high right now. Get the job done, get home. You tell yourself.

Walking out of the bathroom you scan the bar. You feel someone observing you. Reid is standing next to the counter, looking like he hates every minute he has to be here. You sigh once again. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t go undercover.   
“Table in the left corner.” You tell him without looking at him. Your voice is stern, you no longer do him the favor of being friendly.

In the next twenty minutes, you down two shots and try not to appear too annoyed. You’re about to order a third one, when Reid stops you: “That’s enough.”

You shoot him a deadly look: “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” You hiss. After you downed the third one, you grab his arm: “Let’s go.”

Involuntarily, he walks to the door with you. “Don’t follow yet.” You mouth at JJ and Morgan. They nod and look back at their drinks.

“What are you doing?” Reid whisper shouts at you.

You see someone out of the corner of your eyes. Pretending, Reid said something funny, you laugh and put your head on his shoulder. You stumble and Reid puts his arm around your waist, obviously thinking you are drunk. There is an alleyway coming up to your left. You bring your hands to your chest and pull off the rings you’re wearing.

“Left, now.” You mutter. You laugh again and pull Reid into the alley. Before he can object, you push him against the brick wall. You take his hand and give him your rings. Then you lean closer, pushing your face against the side of his. His body stiffens. You bring your right hand up to his cheek.

You hear someone turn the corner and slowly walk up to you. Giggling, you kiss Reid’s cheek. His hands are hanging down, his left clenching around the rings you gave him. Then you hear the steps right behind you. You swing around and punch the man in the face, knocking him out cold.

“Fuck!” Reid screams. Not batting him an eye, you push up your dress and get the handcuffs you strapped to your thigh. With your heel, you push the man over and cuff his hands behind his back. Reid is still leaning against the wall.

You look up at him: “Would you mind getting the others?” He blinks at you and finally moves.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

On the jet back home, you get the vodka you stole from the minibar in your hotel room. You find tumblers and ice in the small kitchen. You get a glass and pour the vodka into it. You swirl it around, cooling it with the ice. Then you down it.

Taking the seat next to JJ, you lean back and close your eyes, observing Reid through your eyelashes. When he thinks you fell asleep, he stares at your face. You observe him, the curiosity in his eyes, until your eyes fully fall shut.


	3. Symptoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You realize what's been going on with Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of substance abuse/addiction & forced drug usage

Someone is grabbing your arm. Before your eyes are fully open, you bring your elbow up and smash it into the offender’s forearm. They immediately let got. You jump to your feet ready to pounce at the person.   
“Fuck, Byrne. It’s Morgan.” The adrenaline is still pumping through your veins and you need to take a few deep breaths to clear your view.

Your eyes dart around the room. You’re in the bullpen. You’re at the BAU. _Shit._ Morgan probably wanted to wake you up. Letting out a loud breath, you sit back in your chair.

You run your hands through your hair: “Sorry.” You mumble. He comes closer again and leans against your desk.

“You alright?” He looks concerned.

You nod: “Yeah. You just surprised me.”

Morgan lets out a laugh: “I gathered that.”

Looking at your watch, you curse. It’s 10 p.m. You must have fallen asleep at your desk. “What are you doing here?”

“Worked out at the gym downstairs, came up to get my bag.” You sigh and gather your belongings. Morgan shakes his head: “You should sleep at home more often. You’re starting to outdo Hotch.”

You walk with him to the elevator without commenting his statement. “Are you sure, you’re okay?” He repeats his question.

“I’m fine.”

Waving at Morgan, you get in your car. You drive off to a restaurant near your apartment to get some take out. With salat in one and warm bread in the other hand, you climb up the stairs. You push open the door to your apartment. It still feels cold. For some reason you didn’t bother to put up any pictures or put much thought into the interior. Groaning, you sit down and start to eat.

Against your will, your mind starts to wander to Reid. He frustrates you because you cannot figure him out. One moment he actually is nice to you and a few hours later he snaps back when you say something. You put your fork down. _Oh no._

\------------------------------------------------------------------

You get your laptop and open the FBI data bank. Sitting on your sofa, you pull up Reid’s file. He worked on endless cases since he joined the BAU, which was at a ridiculously young age. The constant stress must have taken a toll on him, especially since Prentiss was not his only friend that died.

It’s late but you cannot stop now. You start at his first case with the BAU and scan through the files. Your eyes start to hurt but you force yourself to keep reading.

There. Something catches your eye. It’s the case of Tobias Hankel. He held Reid captive and injected him with dilaudid. An opioid with a high addictive potential. You go back to Reid’s personal file and look at his evaluations after that case. Of course, not one word about the withdrawal he must have gone through. Furthermore, no notes about psychological support from the Bureau.

It starts to anger you. You could be wrong, but it explains so much. His mood swings. The changes in his demeanor. Prentiss’ must have been enough of a stressor for him to go back to old habits. You look up the half-life of dilaudid. To keep up the effects he would have to take a pill about every three hours. There is no way he takes it that often.

You think about when his mood changes. Most of the times he seems fine in the morning and his mood gets worse in the afternoon and evening. On cases he almost always is an ass. He probably does not dare to take drugs with him. You sigh. You’re so sure about this. You have seen this happen before.

The sudden anger. Lashing out. Not only did you go through something similar, you saw it happen to colleagues as well. You’re pretty sure that half of the Agents across all agencies take somewhat of a drug. The psychological support is way too bad. And the stress way too much. Everyone pretends its fine, but it’s not. They simply don’t talk about it.

You close your laptop. It’s late, you have to finally go to bed. But you promise yourself to keep an eye on Reid.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, JJ.” You greet her quietly in the kitchen, making yourself and her a coffee.

She gives you a smile and you ask: “How are you holding up?”

JJ furrows her eyebrows: “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are you doing with the recent death of your colleague?”

“Oh.” She takes the mug you offer her. “I’m alright. Thank you for asking.”

You nod in the direction of Reid who is sitting at his desk: “And the kid?”

“He’ll be alright.” JJ assures you. “I know he has been giving you a hard time, but I promise it’s nothing personal.”

“Okay.” You give her a smile and walk to your desk. She is a profiler; how does she not see the pattern in Reid’s behavior?

“Hey, Reid.” You decide to greet him with a kind smile.

To your surprise he smiles back: “Morning, Byrne. I heard you almost killed Morgan last night?”

“What did he do now?” Hotchner suddenly asks form behind you.

“Hey!” Morgan complains. “Why do you assume I did something to deserve it?”

“Just a feeling.” Hotchner shrugs his shoulders. That’s the first time you hear him say something funny. Your mouth falls open, but before you can comment on it, he walks away.

Only now you see the two to-go cups of coffee in front of Reid. You point at them: “I see you are working on that caffeine overdose.”

His cheeks flush: “Actually…” He clears his voice: “I got one for you.”

“Damn, pretty boy!” Morgan exclaims. You see how Reid regrets he ever bought the coffee for you.

You roll your eyes and turn to Morgan: “You can simply say when you’re jealous because he didn’t bring you one.” That makes him raise his hands in defeat and walk away.

When you turn back, Reid is staring at his desk seemingly thinking over his entire existence.

You get up and push your chair over to him. “Which one is mine?” Without really looking at you, he pushes one towards you. You take it and sit down. You take a sip: “Thank you. That’s much better than what we have here.”

Reid takes his and gulps down a ridiculous amount.

“I accept your peace offering.” You tell him and offer your hand. Finally, his eyes meet yours. You notice how small is pupils are. That’s an indicator for a high dose of opioids in his system.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.” Reid tells you, ignoring your hand.

You smile at him and let your hand sink. He takes another sip of his coffee. You lean closer to him like you’re about to kiss him. His breathing hitches and he stares into you eyes. When you’re so close to his face that you can feel the heat radiating off of it, you smirk: “Is that why you didn’t want to shake my hand on my first day? And why you had such a bad time when we were undercover?”

His cheeks are flushed. Satisfied with his reaction, you lean back in your chair.

“Kind of.” Reid admits. After a pause you thank him for the coffee and get back to your desk.

Reid looks still flustered when Rossi walks by. His eyes dart between him and you: “Jeez, Byrne, what did you do to him?” Neither of you answer, you just wink at Rossi.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Luckily, there is no new case today and you all get to go home in the evening. Maybe you even get to enjoy your weekend.

In the elevator, you offer Reid do drive him. He shakes his head: “Thanks, I’d like to take a walk.”

You tell him goodnight and walk to your car. Sitting in silence for a minute, you contemplate if you should follow him.

Slowly, you exit the parking lot and look out for Reid. He’s briskly walking down the sidewalk like he has somewhere to be. You curse. You really had hoped you were wrong, but you worked for the DEA for years. You know what it looks like when someone is walking to meet a dealer.

Following him at a distance, you take out your phone and dial the number of your former partner.

He picks up after a few rings: “What’s up?”

“Hey, Isaacs. What are you doing tonight?” You hear him laugh: “Why? Are you finally going to ask me out?”

It makes you chuckle for a moment, but you shake your head like he can see you: “Not today, sweetheart. But would you like to arrest a dealer instead?”

“Damn, Byrne. You really know how to get me going. Where?” You tell him where you currently are and promise to update him. 

You’ve been following Reid for about ten minutes now and you slowly get into an area where a quick exchange would be possible. Parking the car, you text Isaacs the address and get out. You check your gun and quickly put on your bullet proof vest. You doubt shots will be fired but it would be an extremely stupid way to die. Your phone vibrates. _7 minutes out._ Isaacs informs you.

On foot, you keep following Reid, closing the distance between the two of you. When he slows down, you get out your gun, safety off. At the next corner he turns left, and you lose him for a moment. You jog around the corner and see him enter an alleyway. Pressing yourself against the building, you slowly walk towards where Reid just disappeared.

When you’re right next to the entrance, you hear two voices. One of them you identify as Reid’s, the other has to be the dealer. You listen to them discuss the price.

Taking a deep breath, you turn around the corner, weapon at the ready. “FBI! Don’t move!” You yell. Both of them flinch in surprise.

Reid’s eyes widen when he realizes who you are. The dealer grabs his backpack, walking backwards into the alley.

You shoot at the wall to his right: “Don’t even think about it.”

“Alright, alright.” He puts the bag back down. You gesture towards the wall. While you cuff him, he asks: “Since when do the feds care about small scale dealers?”

“You’re just this special.” You hiss at him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Grabbing the dealer’s arm, you push him towards the sidewalk. You make him sit down to wait for Isaacs. Reid is staring at you with a mixture of fear and anger in his eyes. You hold your hand towards him, palm up, staring him down. Reluctantly, he takes the bag of pills out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You look at them for a second to confirm that you were right about the dilaudid. Then you put them in the dealer’s backpack. You hear Isaac’s car driving down the street.

“My car is parked around the corner. Wait there.” You order Reid. His lips tighten and his jaw clenches. He knows that the alternative would be to explain what he was doing here. He lingers a moment longer and then walks off to your car.

You lean down to the dealer: “How long has he been buying from you?”

“Fuck you.” He spits out.

You kick his ribs: “How long?”

Groaning, he tells you: “About two months.”

_Fucking hell._ That’s right after Prentiss died. And also, a fucking long time to take this shit. No surprise his mood changes so harshly. “How did you find him?” Isaacs asks you.

You shrug your shoulders: “I got a tip.” The dealer scoffs at your words but keeps quiet. Isaacs thanks you and you promise him to take him out for dinner soon.

On the way to your car, you holster your gun and take off your vest. You’re kind of surprised that Reid is actually waiting for you.

“What the fuck?” He barks at you. “Did you follow me?”

You throw your stuff in the trunk: “Yes. You’re lucky I’m the one who busted you.”

He stares you down: “I’m lucky!?”

You point at the passenger seat: “Get in the car.”

Reid doesn’t move: “Or what? Are you going to arrest me?”

“Do you want me to? If the answer is no, you should get in.” Finally, he opens the door.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him while you drive off.   
“Are seriously going to make small talk now?” He still sounds angry, but there is a hint of sadness in his voice.

“I’m asking you, because you will probably puke your soul out for the rest of the weekend and it’s maybe a good idea to eat something as long as you can keep it inside you.”

Reid taps his fingers on his thigh: “Yes, I’m hungry.”

You get some food and drive to your apartment. In front of it you ask him: “Would you like to go to a hospital?”

He inhales sharply: “No.”

“Are you scared it will end up in your records?” Your voice is calm and compassionate.

“Yes.” He whispers.

“Okay, come on.” You get out. Reid follows you inside.

Looking around, he declares: “Your apartment looks almost as bad as mine.”

You eat in silence. “Can I ask you something?” Reid suddenly looks at you.

“Sure.” You nod.

“Where did you get the scars on your back from?”

You look back down at your plate without answering him. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer.” He backpaddles.

“It’s alright. This will be a long weekend. We might as well get to know each other.”


	4. A Long Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending the night (and day) with Spencer, you help him get through the withdrawal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of substance abuse, addiction, physical pain.
> 
> AN: This chapter describes real symptoms of opioid withdrawal and it's treatment. I, however, do not endorse doing any of this without professional help.
> 
> [somewhat fluff]

You eat in silence. “Can I ask you something?” Reid suddenly looks at you.  
“Sure.” You nod.

“Where did you get the scars on your back from?”

You look back down at your plate without answering him. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer.” He backpaddles.

“It’s alright. This will be a long weekend. We might as well get to know each other.”

You put the silverware down and take a sip of water. Then you ask: “I assume you read my file?”

Reid nods: “Yeah.”

“And you saw the six months under cover job?”

He nods again: “I was wondering why there are no details about that job in your file. Was it kept strictly offline because it was top security?” He puts his silverware down as well and looks into your eyes, propping his head up in his hand.

You sigh: “No.” You don’t really want to talk about what happened to you. You talked to no one about it. They all just know what they could see.

“Oh.” Reid furrows his eyebrows.

You clear your throat: “I was abducted.”

Reid’s hand sinks to the table and his mouth falls open. After a pause he asks you, pure disbelieve in his voice: “You were abducted and held captive for six month and there is nothing in your file about it?”

You sigh again: “They never caught them, so it was swept under the rug. How can an Agency claim to protect the public when they cannot even protect their own?”

After that it’s silent for a long time. You eventually keep eating while Reid stares somewhere on the table. When your plate is empty you push it to the site and look at Reid until he says in a quiet voice: “Why are you not angry?”

You let out a laugh: “Oh, I am angry.”

Reid looks into your eyes: “I am angry as well. We could not protect Prentiss. How are you so calm?”

“Because,” You lean towards him, “I don’t have any energy left to act otherwise.” After a pause you add: “And drugs.”

“Why do you care so much about me taking drugs then?” His tone suddenly becomes more aggressive and defensive. “Don’t you think it makes you hypocritical?”

You take a deep breath: “You could put it that way. I would argue, however, that I am not addicted. Which means I am able to function without taking something. You are not.”

“I am able to function! I am sober during cases and do my job!” Reid starts to raise his voice at you. You pause again and observe his body language. His pulse is quick, you can see his cervical artery basically bouncing, his eyes seem glazed. “Don’t you dare profile me right now!” He yells.

You stand up and bring the plates into the kitchen. When you come back, Reid is standing in the middle of your living room, looking like doesn’t know if he wants to destroy something or simply run away.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

When you don’t say anything, he starts to pace up and down. “This is bullshit! Why the fuck do you even care?” Reid shouts.

You see the sweat glistening on his forehead. “When did you take your last dose?”

That questions makes him come to a stop abruptly: “What?” You repeat your question and wait until he answers: “Three days ago, in the evening.”

You nod and he continues to walk around, you see him eying the door. “You should sit down.”

“No!” Reid hastily wipes his forehead.

“You are starting to show withdrawal symptoms, you should sit down.”

He shoots you a deadly look: “Or, I could just fucking leave.” This time he startles himself with the sharpness in his voice.

“I will help you get through this, but I need you to sit down.” Reid finally gives in and sits down on your sofa. You get a box of tissues and hand him some. He wipes his forehead again.

“Do you remember how you went through withdrawal after Hankel injected you?”

He shakes his head: “I took it for only a week after that. It made me feel good, but I didn’t like how it slowed down my thoughts.”

That makes you smile: “I can imagine.”

He is still breathing heavily, but the aggression vanished from his voice. You don’t know if it’s because he actually isn’t angry anymore or if the withdrawal makes him too tired for it. Either way, you are glad. His eyes wander around, darting from one corner to the other. “Reid?”

He either doesn’t hear you or decides to ignore you. “Reid?” You repeat.

“Spencer.” He says absentmindedly without looking at you.  
“What?”

“You can call me Spencer. If you want to.”

“I like that.” It makes him whip is head around. “You can call me Emily. Or Byrne. Whatever you prefer.”

You see him trying to focus on you. “I can’t see.” His voice hitches.

“You can’t see, or you can’t focus?”

Spencer starts to breath faster again: “I cannot focus. Everything is blurry.” He starts to panic.

“Okay. Can I touch you?” You ask and stand up.

“Yes.” He starts to tear up.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

You take his hands: “I will help you lie down.” You grab his legs with your left hand and help him putting them up. Then you make sure his head his flat on the sofa. “Your blood pressure is extremely high, I need you to breath with me, okay?” When he doesn’t answer, you continue: “When I squeeze your hands, you breathe in. When I let go, you breathe out. Don’t inhale until I squeeze your hands again.”

He nods frantically. You tightly grab both of his hands and kneel down next to him. When you squeeze them, he takes a deep breath. After three seconds you let go and count to six in your head. You repeat this a few times, then you check his pulse. “How is your vision?”

“Still blurry. And my legs hurt. Everything hurts.” _Shit._ His withdrawal symptoms seem to get worse by the minute. Which makes sense after such a long time of substance abuse. You see him get goosebumps on his arms.

“Try to stay calm. We need to get your blood pressure down.” You see him trying to recall everything he knows about blood pressure. Which is probably everything there is to know about it. But his mind is clouded and overwhelmed and his eyes still dart around, desperately trying to focus on something.

“I will be right back.” You let go of his hands. He tries to hold on to you. “I will be right back.” You repeat and run to the bathroom. You turn on the water and start to fill up the bathtub. It sends shivers down your spine. After being tortured in a water tank you are not particularly fond of bodies of water that are bigger than a bottle.

Focusing on what you need to do, you take a deep breath and try to calm yourself down. Spencer is clawing into the sofa when you come back. You help him sit up and put your arm around his waist: “I will help you get into the bathtub.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion but he doesn’t object. In the bathroom you help him strip to his underwear and t-shirt. Then he sits down in the bathtub that is half full of hot water by now. You see him instantly relax. You go through your bottles of pills until you find Suboxone. With a glass of water in your hand, you hand one to Spencer: “Take this. It will help.”

Spencer gulps it down without a question, apparently desperate for any kind of relieve. You turn off the water and sit next to the tub, making sure he keeps his head up.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

You hold his hair, while Spencer is continuously throwing up into the toilet. The back of his shirt is drenched in sweat and his nose is running constantly. When there is nothing left in him to puke out, he collapses onto the floor. You flush the toilet and help him sit up against the wall.

Making him swallow another Suboxone, you check his pulse. It finally steadied a bit. You’re almost as exhausted as he must be. It’s four in the morning. Neither of you got a minute of sleep. “How are you feeling?” You lightly touch his cheek.  
He lets out a tired laugh: “Like shit.”

“Come on.” You help him up, basically carrying him into the bedroom. He sits on in and stares at the wall. His eyes are better now. You lay down several towels onto the mattress and make him take his shirt off.

While crawls backwards he mumbles: “I will ruin your blankets.”

“I own a washing machine.” You pull the blanket up to his shoulders and brush his hair off his face. Spencer whispers something inaudible and his head falls to the side. You sigh in relieve and lay down in your makeshift bed on the floor. For a long time, you lay there in the dim light and listen to his breathing. It’s steady and as slow as it should be during sleep.

Eventually, exhaustion forces you into a shallow sleep.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“Emily?” Your eyes flutter open. You don’t know where you are, you are not laying in your bed. “Emily?” You recognize Spencer’s voice and remember what’s been going on. Groaning, you get up. Rubbing your eyes, you look at him. His body is less tense than it was in the morning. You look at the clock, you slept for five hours.

“Are you okay?” You sit down on the bed while Spencer scoots backwards until he can sit up against the headboard. Tears start to fill his eyes: “I’m in so much pain. Can I please have something? Anything?”

You have to try really hard not to give in, it makes your heart ache to see him – see anyone – like this. You get up and bring him another Suboxone: “Drink.” You order and watch him as he downs the whole water bottler.

“Will this help?”

“Not with the pain, but it helps getting the Dilaudid out of your system and shorten the withdrawal.” Before he can reply anything, you get closer to him to take his pulse. You look at the watch on your wrist and count. Then you put up your finger: “Can you follow my finger?” He does. “Good.”

“Do you think you can eat something?”

“I don’t know.”

You go get two bananas and hand him one, eating the other: “The potassium will help to keep your blood pressure down.”

With shaking hands, he tries to peel it. You take it and do it for him. His lips tighten. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re sick. There is nothing wrong with getting help.”

While Spencer starts to eat, you get him a fresh shirt from your closet. After he is done eating, he puts it on. You’re relieved that he doesn’t throw the banana back up.

Then you put fresh towels on the mattress and Spencer sits back down. You think of something to distract him from his pain. You disappear into the living room and get back with a book in your hand. Sitting down in the bed next to Spencer, you make sure to give him some room. 

“What are you doing?” He turns his head towards you.

“I will read you my favorite book.” You say like it’s the most obvious thing. He gives you a genuine smile. It’s probably the first time you witness that.

You clear you voice: _“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat; it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.“_

Spencer inhales sharply but keeps quiet and listens to you. You continue: _“It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with paneled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats – the hobbit was fond of visitors.“_

Only now, half-way through the page, you realize that Spencer is crying. You look up for a second and see him staring at you, tears running down his face. You grab his hand and hold it tightly. Continuing to read until he stops.


	5. Payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Go back?" he thought. "No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!" So up he got.  
> ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit, or There and Back Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [kind of fluff; canon-typical drama]

“Hi, I need to pick up Suboxone for a friend.” You smile at the pharmacist. “But I forgot the prescription. Could I still get it now? I will pay for it.”

The pharmacist eyes you up and down and you try to look as sweet as honey. “How many pills are supposed to be in the bottle?”

“Forty-Five.”

The pharmacist raises his eyebrow: “That will be 300$.” You nod: “That’s alright.”

He shrugs his shoulders and goes to get it. You pay in cash and quickly leave.

Spencer is sitting in your car, waiting for you. You let out a relieved sigh and hand Spencer the pills: “That will be enough for a month. Hopefully, you’ll be good after that.”

He stares at the bottle of pills and back at you: “How much did they cost?”

You start the car: “Don’t worry about it.”

“No.” He objects. “I want to pay you back.”

You pull out the lot and tell him: “You will pay me back by getting clean.”

It’s Sunday evening and you haven’t let Spencer alone longer than ten minutes since Friday. The ten minutes were you showering. And maybe some bathroom breaks.

You look at the road and drive quietly back to your apartment. Suddenly, Spencer asks: “Why are you so nice to me?” At the next red light, you turn your head to meet his eyes: “Why shouldn’t I?”

He fumbles with the bottle: “Because I was an ass.” You let out a laugh: “Yeah, you were.” After a pause you answer his question: “I saw you struggling, and I saw no one else looking after you. By then the rest of the team pissed me off more than you did.”

“They look after me.” Spencer’s voice gets louder. You squint you eyes: “They have been profilers and you coworkers for what? Five years? And they didn’t realize what’s been going on with you. It took me like two weeks.” He doesn’t answer you.

“Look, I understand that you want to defend them. They are your friends, your family, but they…” You sigh. You don’t want to drag them through the dirt. They still make you angry, however. Spencer stays quiet.

Parking the car, you say: “This whole ordeal simply reminds me of what I went through, and no one looked after me. I just want to… I don’t know.” You rub your hands over your face. 

Taking a deep breath, Spencer puts his hand on your shoulder and waits until you look at him. “Thank you.” He whispers.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s weird how two days and nights together created such an intimacy between the two of you. Maybe its Spencer throwing up in your bathroom until four a.m., maybe its you two sleeping in the same room.

He still gets goosebumps, stomachache and suddenly starts sweating, but the worst seems to be over. When Spencer wants to help you change the bedsheets, you order him to sit down until you’re done. Reluctantly, he does as you say and waits until you put everything in the washing machine and tell him to get back to bed.

In sweatpants and a t-shirt, you go to sit in bed next to him. Apparently, this is the first time he is calm enough to look at your exposed arms. He sees the scarred track marks. You feel him staring at them before you even turn your head to confirm he doses. As if Spencer were entranced, he lifts his hand to touch them. 

You pull your arm away: “Don’t.” He blinks: “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.” He stumbles through his apology. Without saying anything, you hand him the book you have been reading. He clears his voice: “Chapter five: Riddles in the Dark.” After making a dramatic pause, Spencer continues: _“[W](https://genius.com/13979219/J-r-r-tolkien-the-hobbit-chapter-5-riddles-in-the-dark/W)hen Bilbo opened his eyes, he wondered if he had; for it was just as dark as with them shut. No one was anywhere near him. Just imagine his fright! He could hear nothing, see nothing, and he could feel nothing except the stone of the floor.”_

This time, it’s you who inhales sharply. Memories hit you like lighting. You try to calm yourself by taking deep breaths, but the white noise in your head just gets louder. It drowns out every word Spencer says. _Drowns_ probably wasn’t the best choice of words.

You get out of bed and stumble to the living room. Sinking to the floor, you hug your legs and try to snap out of it. You’re breathing heavily and all you can hear is the noise of water engulfing you.

“Emily.” The voice is so far away that you barely hear it. Your hands suddenly touch something. It’s warm. Then your left hand grabs hair. “Emily.” The voice repeats. By now you realize that you are touching a human.

You let your hands wander until you feel the side of a head, brushing over hair. “It’s me. Emily.” The voice repeats calmly. You pry your eyes open. Right in front of you is Spencer’s worried face. Your hands are clasping it.

“It’s okay.” He assures you. You take a deep breath: “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I didn’t want to scare you. You’ve been through enough.” You are still cradling his face.

“So have you.” He has never been this compassionate. It makes you gulp.

Slowly, you let your hands sink. “Okay?” Spencer asks. You nod: “Okay.” He helps you up and you return to bed. “I’m sorry for trying to touch your arm.” He mumbles.

Wiping your face, you want to say something. But you don’t know what. Spencer picks up the book again and continues reading. The last thing you feel before drifting off to sleep, is Spencer pulling up the blanket to your shoulder.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Your alarm wakes you up at an ungodly hour. Startled by another person breathing next to you, you whip your head around. It’s Spencer, hugging a pillow, laying as far away from you as the mattress allows.

Gently, you get up. After getting clothes from your wardrobe, you tiptoe to the bathroom to change. You find Spencer’s bag next to the door and search it for his phone. With a charger in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other, you enter the bedroom. Spencer is still asleep. You put down the water on the nightstand next to the pills. Then you plug in the phone and lay it down as well.

You write him a note and stick it to the lamp. _I’m at the Bureau. Write me as soon as you wake up and call in sick. One pill every six hours._

Making sure, he cannot get to any pain medication in your apartment, you get ready for work. You speed off to Quantico and get coffee on the way.

You meet JJ in the elevator and make small talk. “You look a little pale.” She tells you eventually. For some reason, it’s the funniest thing to you and you burst out in laughter. “Had a hell of a weekend.” You finally get out.

“What’s so funny?” Morgan greets you. Before you can answer, JJ informs him: “Byrne apparently had a lot of fun during the weekend.”

“Ayyyy.” Morgan exclaims and raises his hand for a high-five. Shaking your head, you slap it.

While sitting at your desk, you hear the phone in Hotchner’s office ring. You try to lean back in your chair nonchalantly and sip your coffee. No matter how hard you try, you cannot understand what he is talking about.

A minute later your phone vibrates. You smile when you see it’s a message from Spencer. _Just talked to Hotch. Can I stay at your place?_

_Sure. I expect you to be done with The Hobbit when I get back. I’ll order you some food._

_I’ll be done with The Lord of The Rings when you get back. And thank you._

His boldness makes you laugh. It also makes you happy. You pre-order some pizza for him and pay online. Fingers crossed that you don’t get called on a case.

On cue, Garcia enters the bullpen: “We have a case.”

_Shit._

“Where?” You call.

“Chesapeake Beach.”

 _Less shit._ That’s an hour away.

At the roundtable, Hotchner declares: “We’re one person short, Reid called in sick.”

“That’s a first.” Rossi comments. That lets your anger rise back to the surface. He didn’t ever call in sick? Jeez.

While Garcia fills you in on the details, you aggressively tap your pen on the file in front of you.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Persisting on driving your own car to the crime scene, you let Reid know you’re on a case close to Washington.

Blasting loud music, you arrive at the beach before the others. You don’t feel like waiting for them, so you get out the car, put on your jacket and flash your badge at the officer standing guard. The press starts to arrive.

A coast guard greets you and asks about the others. You nod towards the parking lot and walk to where the bodies were found. By now, they are in a tent to shield them from photographers. Little flags are sticked into the sand, marking where the bodies were laying before.

You keep your distance to them and walk along the water, looking around. They were fairly in the open. Just the dunes hiding them from people driving by. Five bodies. All were evidently in the water for a longer period of time.

The sound of the waves sends shivers down your spine. _Come on._ You repeatedly tell yourself. About a quarter of a mile from the crime scene away, something in the water catches your eye. It’s about twenty yards out in the open water. It’s silver. And seems to float up and down, shimmering silver in the sunlight when it breaches the surface. A higher wave carries the object higher and closer to you.

It’s a cage. Someone’s out there. In a cage. Your heart rate increases instantly. Without thinking about it you start to take off your shoes, jacket and sweater. With your gun you throw it into the sand. You step closer to the water. _Okay._ You take a deep breath. _Okay._

Then you start to run. As far as you can before you lose your footing. The cage is still ten yards away. _Come on, Emily._ You repeat in your head. You dip your head under water for a second. _Okay._

You start to swim towards the cage. Your wet clothes are heavy, but you’re stronger. With long strokes you swim further out. The water is loud, but you can hear people screaming at the beach.

With a last stroke, you reach the metal bars. They are cold. Another wave presses you against it. You try to pull on it. Nothing moves. You see someone move inside. Putting your hand through the bars, you try to grab them. You scream when the person grabs your hand.

They are alive. You squeeze their hand and push yourself under water. The water is clear enough that you can kind of see them. Adrenaline is pumping through you. You go up again and take a deep breath. Then you dive further down. There is a chain attached to the cage, holding it down. You grab it and follow it downwards. You’re so deep that it gets quiet. Desperately holding on to the chain, you finally reach the weight attached to it. Half-blind you find the carabiner connecting the two.

When you get it off, you quickly swim back up. Coughing, you try to breathe in. Once more, you dive down. Now that the weight is off, you can open the door of the cage at the bottom. You grab the person by the leg and pull them out. Together, you make it back up. It’s a woman, a small oxygen tank in her hand attached to her mouth. Her eyes are wide open, looking around panicked.

“I got you, I got you.” You grab under her arms and swim backwards to the shore. It feels like an eternity, but you eventually feel sand under your feet. You get up and drag her out of the water. Coughing and breathing heavily, you collapse down next to her. You turn around and see the others running towards you.

You get on your knees and pull the oxygen mask off the woman’s face. She’s almost naked and you pull your sweater over her head and your jacket on her shoulders.

“What’s your name?” You breathe out.

“Polly.” She stares at you.

“I’m Emily.” You fall back into the sand. “FBI.” You add.

Polly lets out a sob and clutches your jacket.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Morgan and Hotchner sprinting. When they come to a stop next to you, you ask: “What took you so long?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Your hair and jeans are still wet when you arrive at your apartment. “Spencer?” You yell while sliding collapsing on the rug in front of your sofa. He’s already entering the living room. He stares at you: “What happened?”

“Ah.” You make a dismissive gesture with your hand. “You got something of that pizza left?”


	6. Unruly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made a wreck out of my hand  
> I put it through the wall  
> I made a fist and not a plan  
> Call me a reckless wrecking ball  
> \- Mother Mother, Wrecking Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [canon-typical-drama; friendship development?]

The Chesapeake case is still ongoing. You persuaded Spencer to take off until today. He went home Monday evening, assuring you to check in. It’s Wednesday and you need to think about something else than the case. The unsub is putting people in cages, leaving them with a small supply of oxygen, letting them stay conscious under water for a few hours before they inevitably drown.

You sigh and open the bucket of paint you bought. Having someone staying over, made you realize _how_ sparse your apartment looks. You ordered posters to hang up in the living room and are currently painting the bathroom lavender. Hotchner chided you for swimming out in the ocean like you did, but you defended yourself with a thankful Polly next to you, forcing him to give up lecturing quickly. You roll your eyes at the memory.

You’re exhausted, but you need to do something with your hands. The weekend with Spencer was mentally draining, and the case took a toll on your physical health. Cursing, you pick up the brush and go to work.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

You wait in front of the café to pick up Spencer. He stubbornly insists on paying for your food and drink as often as he can. It’s sweet and you cannot help yourself but stupidly grin to yourself whenever he brings you anything.

He gets in the car and hands you your coffee. Even though he talked to Garcia every day, against your suggestion, you fill him in on the details of the case. It’s warm outside today. You, however, wear something that covers your arms to your wrists. Spencer notices but doesn’t say anything.

“Welcome back, Pretty Boy!” Morgan enthusiastically greets him. Spencer gives him his signature tight lipped smile and walks to his desk. Hotchner comes out of his cave and comes over. “Are you up to speed?” He looks at Spencer. _Wow. That’s a way to welcome someone back._ But Spencer doesn’t mind, without changing his facial expression, he informs Hotchner: “Byrne filled me in.”

Rossi joins you: “The victim Byrne pulled out of the ocean is released from the hospital today and can come in for questioning.”

“Polly.” You interrupt before he can elaborate. “Her name is Polly Jean.”

Hotchner looks at you like you interrupted him and not Rossi. Out of the corner of your eye you see Reid’s lips twitch. “Right.” Rossi continues. “Miss Jean will come in for questioning later.”

“JJ and Reid, I want you to talk to her.” Hotchner orders. You raise your eyebrow: “Shouldn’t I talk to her? She already knows me.” He turns to you: “No.”

“That’s it? No?” Your shoulders stiffen and you raise your chin, showing your throat in protest. Hotchner’s eyes furrow: “Agent Byrne, as far as I remember, I’m your supervisor. So, do as I say and observe the interview with our suspect.”

Your lips tighten, but you don’t say anything. “Morgan and I will interview Bryan Keller. He is the only suspect that fits the profile.”

You’re fuming. It makes no sense that he benches you like that. Is this his way of punishing you for saving someone? As soon as Hotchner turns his back to you, you get up and kick your chair on the way to the bathroom.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“You okay?” Reid asks. He apparently waited for you outside the bathroom. Its sweet but also a little creepy. “No.” You answer, making eye-contact for just a second. It sounded unfriendlier than you intended to: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Spencer touches your upper arm for a moment: “I understand.”

You give him a smile and nod towards the interrogation room: “Go on.”

As soon as you enter the observation room and see the suspect, you know it’s him. You pace up and down behind the mirror. Hotchner and Morgan take their sweet time asking him unnecessary questions.

Keller answers them calmly, but you don’t miss the smug smile that crosses his face now and then. You take a moment and step outside, walking over to the other room and meet Rossi there. He is watching JJ and Spencer silently. Before you can ask how it’s going, you hear Polly crying. Your head shoots towards the glass. She is clutching a tissue, telling how she was trapped out there for hours.

You step closer to the glass and stare at her. She reminds you of yourself. Luckily, she didn’t have to go through it any longer. You ball your hands into fists and have to force yourself to open and relax them.

Even more pissed now, you walk back and stare at Hotchner’s and Morgan’s backs. Your heart races in anger and your breath fogs the glass.

“How do you know her?” Morgan finally asks. “Never saw her before you showed me her picture.” His voice strikes a nerve with you. He is so sure of himself.

His eyes linger on the photo on the table longer than you like. Is he smiling? You lean even closer to the glass. His eyes sparkle. It’s fucking him.

Either Hotchner and Morgan don’t see it, or they pretend they don’t. You text Reid. He answers a few seconds later that Polly indeed identified Keller as the perpetrator. What are they waiting for?

Now Hotchner is seriously trying to build rapport, pretending to sympathize with Keller. Who is continuing to answer everything nonchalantly. A light bulb goes of in your head. He isn’t intimidated by Hotchner or Morgan. He’s only scared of women, which is why he chains them to the ground of the fucking ocean.

You take a step back and take a deep breath. You should wait until Hotchner steps out and tell him. You should… Then he laughs. Keller seriously laughs. “Fucker!” You yell and punch the glass. Pain shoots through your arm like lightning. The mirror, however, takes the bigger damage. It cracks and long lines tear the glass apart.

“What the…” Morgan turns around. You are already opening the door to the interrogation room. Keller’s eyes widen, leaning away from you. Hotchner and Morgan stare at you in disbelieve. With long strides you make your way over to Keller. He jumps up and stumbles backwards until his back hits the wall.

You step right in front of him and lean closer. His breathing hitches. Your voice is rough when you ask: “You feel intimidated by someone like Polly? How do you feel now?” You stare him down until Hotchner says your name. Taking a step back, you point at the paper on the table. Without another word, Keller sits back down and starts writing his confession.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

With an icepack pressed against you hand you talk to Polly. You give her a hug and see her out.

Reid leans against your desk when you sit back down. “How’s your hand?” You shrug your shoulders: “It’s alright. You’re the only one who isn’t mad at me.” He uncrosses his arms and props them up on your desk: “After what you did to that mirror, I don’t dare.”

That makes you laugh. Like, actually laugh.

That is, until Hotchner enters the bullpen: “Byrne, my office.” You shoot Spencer a look and throw the icepack on your desk, following Hotchner’s long strides. You keep standing behind the chairs of his desk while he sits down. Even when he points at the chair you don’t move a muscle. He seemingly gives up and tells you: “You need to fix your attitude. First you jump into the ocean without a warning, now you purposefully damage government property. I cannot have an Agent go rogue like that.”

You take a deep breath: “I understand that my actions were problematic, but I-“

“No.” Hotchner interrupts you. “You pull something like that again and I will suspend you.” You ball your hands to fists again and try really hard not to say anything offensive.

He slides a piece of paper towards you: “Psychological examination. Monday, 7 a.m.” You huff at him and snatch the piece of paper off the desk. You’re already half out of the door, when he says: “Dismissed.”

Without talking to anyone, you grab your stuff and forcefully shove the paper in your bag. You violently push the button to the elevator. Cursing continuously, you drive home at a questionable speed.

At home, you throw your stuff on the floor and get vodka out of the freezer. You ignore your ringing phone until you downed your fourth shot. When it starts you ring again, you pick it up just to turn it off. But it’s Reid.

“Hey, Spencer.” You sigh.

“Are you okay? Hotch won’t tell me what happened.”

You huff: “Of course he won’t.” You slur the last words and Reid picks up on it: “Are you drunk?”

“A little.” You answer truthfully.

“Should I come over?” His voice is so kind, it almost makes you sob.

After a pause you answer: “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Take care of yourself.”

You hear him beginning another sentence, but you hang up.

After filling your glass again, you walk over to the couch and sit down. Groaning, you take off your shoes. You’re tired. But your anger keeps you awake. You down the rest of the vodka and lean your head back.

The ringing of your doorbell lets your eyes shoot open. “Oh for fuck…Yeah?” You answer the door. “It’s Spencer.” You lean your forehead against the door. “Go away.” You tell him. “You told me, no one looked after you. But I’m here now. So, let me in.” The determination in his voice makes you smile. You buzz him in.


	7. Shortcut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't say it, but I'm starting to think I care  
> I've had a drink, you probably think my judgement isn't clear  
> \- Tom Odell, Hold Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [shamless fluff]

You have to use the door as leverage to keep yourself steady while you wait for Reid. Holding onto his leather bag, he comes in. Still in his shirt, slipover and jacket he wore to work.

You let the door fall shut and sink back down on the couch. Gesturing Reid to sit down on the other end of the sofa, you ask: “How did you get here?”

He sits down awkwardly, still his bag over his shoulder and shoes on. “Took the metro and walked the rest.” You stare at him: “The next metro station is almost twenty minutes away.”

“Sixteen.” Spencer informs you. It takes you a moment to process that information. He really went out of his way to see how you are doing. You clear your throat and get up; you need to stand still before you can walk to the kitchen. Returning with two glasses of water, you hand one to Reid.

He stares at his hands, before he quietly asks you: “What did Hotch say to you?” You sigh and wait until he looks you in the eyes. “He told me that if I pull something like this again, he will suspend me.” You make quotation marks in the air with your fingers. “I also have to attend psychological evaluation on Monday.”

Reid huffs: “Morgan kicks down every door he sees, and he never had to go to something like this.” That makes you giggle: “You’re funny, Reid.”

His eyes widen: “You think so?”

“Yeah.” You empty your glass.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can take off your bag and whatnot if you want.” You pull your legs up and lean against the armrest to properly look at Spencer. He actually puts his bag on the floor and drapes his jacket over it.

“Did you really finish The Lord of The Rings?”

“All three.” Reid confirms.

Your mouth falls open: “You’re serious about the speed-reading thing.”

He shrugs his shoulders: “It’s useful for work.”

“But do you actually remember all the details?”

“Probably most of it.”

“Hm.” You squint your eyes: “What’s the password for the entrance to Moria?”

Reid is visibly combing through his knowledge of the books: “The elvish word for friend.” He answers.

“And that is?” You grin.

Frustration makes its way onto Spencer’s face when he doesn’t remember instantly.

“Mellon.” You tell him with a smirk.

“You were drunk a few minutes ago but you remember that?” He asks stunned.

“Common knowledge.”

You point to your only bookshelf: “I got Lord of The Rings trivial pursuit if you want a rematch.”

Reid springs to his feet and scrambles to get it.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Of course, Spencer wins the game by a landslide. But you don’t mind. You enjoy seeing the almost childish happiness on his face when he gets a question right.

When Reid comes back from the bathroom, he holds a razor in his hand. You raise your eyebrow. “Would you…” He fidgets with it. “Do you think it would look good on me if I had the sides of my head shaved as short as the back of your neck?”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes dart between the razor in his hand and his hair. The chin-long, wavy hair looks good on him. He could be onto something though. By now, you’re completely sober again. Steadily, you get up and walk over to him.

With both hands, you gently grab his hair and hold it up. You tilt your head and imagine the curls only being on the top of his head. “I think it would look great.” You eventually tell him. Only when he lets out a breath and smiles at you, you realize that you are still very close to his face.

“Would you cut it?” He stares into your eyes.

Your mouth falls open again. “Don’t you want to go to a hairdresser?”

Reid shakes his head: “I don’t like going there. They always ask me personal questions.”

You smile at him: “Alright. No guarantee or liability”

His smile brightens and you walk back to the bathroom with him. You make him sit on the edge of the bathtub, legs in the tub, and put a towel around his shoulders.

You get scissors and take the razor from him. “You sure?” You ask.

“Can’t be worse than withdrawal.”

That makes you laugh out loud: “You really should try stand-up.”

Before he can ramble something about how that is not a suitable profession for him, you take his hair between your fingers and start to cut it. The sound of the scissors cutting through his gorgeous hair is all you can hear for a few minutes.

When you’re satisfied with the length on top, you cut the sides as short as the scissors allow it. Then you get at wet towel and brush over the sides of his head. Without thinking about it, you grab his jaw and tilt his head to position it. You feel him swallow hard. You quickly let go, but you still his cheeks flush.

“Ready?”

He nods and you lean closer, starting to shave his hair.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“Done.” You declare and take the towel off his shoulders. Giving him a hand, you help him step out of the tub. His foot catches the edge of it, and he stumbles. With both hands, you have to catch him from falling onto his face.

You feel him breathe out against your neck and get goosebumps. Still holding his upper arms firmly, you push him back to his feet. “You okay?” You chuckle.

“Uh- yeah.” Spencer mumbles. You guide him towards the mirror and step out of the way, so that he can look at himself. He stares at himself without saying anything.

Reid turns to look at you: “What do you think?”

You raise your hand to ruffle through his curls and brush over his side-cut: “I think you look hot. It accentuates your cheekbones.” His cheeks flush again and he turns back to the mirror.

“Do you like it?” You prop your hands up on your hips and look at him in the mirror.

“Yeah, a lot.” Spencer finally says.

“Good.” You smile.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer sits on the lid of the toilet while you blow-dry the tiny hairs off his neck that get stuck there when you get a haircut.

When you turn it off, he says: “I thought about what you said. About the team.”

You put away the hairdryer and ask: “What conclusion did you come to?”

Reid clears his throat: “That you’re right. But I am as well. They should have looked out better for me, but I also should have asked for help.”

“Fair enough.” You comment.

After a pause he changes the subject: “I think it was unfair of Hotch to punish you for swimming out there.”

“So, you also think he punished me?”

“I don’t see another reason for him not to let you interview Polly.”

You nod and sit back on the sofa with Spencer. It’s late, but you don’t want him to leave. “It took me lot to do that, and he completely overlooked my effort. I literally dove to the bottom of the ocean.”

Spencer’s eyes wander over your face while he considers your words. “Are you afraid of water?”

You close your eyes and answer: “Yes.”

“Why?”

You open your eyes again and see his genuinely curious face.

Shaking your head is all the answer you are capable of.

“Sorry.” Reid apologizes. “Sorry, I sometimes…I need to think before I ask.”

You take a deep breath and try to avoid the pending panic attack. “It’s alright.” You assure.

“No.” He objects. “I triggered you. Again.”

Trying to calm your pulse, you breathe out: “You don’t do it on purpose. And you came all the way to keep me company. That was really, really kind of you.”

“Okay.” Spencer nods.

“How are you handling the Suboxone?”

“It’s good. I sometimes still have a heightened sensation of pain, or problems focusing. But I’m alright.”

“You tell me, if that’s not the case anymore?”

“Yes.” He assures you with a steady voice.

“Good.” You smile at him. “So, Pretty Boy, do you want to sleep over?”


	8. Reidevaluation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the wordplay, I could not help myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fluff with tension]

After crashing on your couch, Spencer insists on taking you out for breakfast. You lend him a sweater and make sure he takes his meds before you leave. In the car you tell him: “I appreciate you inviting me for breakfast, but you don’t need to feel like you have to pay me back.”

He looks at you for a moment: “Do you think I spend time with you because I feel obligated to?”

“Oh.” Was that what you were thinking? When you don’t say anything else, he says: “Actually, I enjoy being with you.”

The ambiguity of his words makes you grin.

Spencer realizes what he just said: “That’s not what I-“

“I enjoy it too.” You interrupt him.

Reid shows his awkward tics while entering the café and ordering. He also panics a little when the waitress flirts with him. You observe him and suppress a smile. After your food arrives, you comment: “Your haircut seems to have an immediate impact.”

Self-consciously, he runs his fingers through his hair.

“It looks good.” You assure him.

He avoids your gaze and starts eating.

After a few minutes of silent eating, he clears his throat and asks: “Did you mean it?”

You furrow your eyebrows: “What? That your hair looks good?”

Spencer looks at you, studying your face: “What you said yesterday. I… I don’t know if you still were intoxicated when you said it. So, I’m not certain.”

The corners of your mouth twitch. You’re fairly sure about what he is referring to, but you want him to say it.

“What exactly do you mean?” You take a sip of your coffee and stare him down over the rim of your mug.

He cheeks flush and he lets out a sigh. “That you think I look hot.” Spencer mumbles.

You hear that it takes him a lot of effort to say that. Even though the team often teases him about being pretty – including you -, he doesn’t seem to believe it.

“Yes.” You answer calmly.

He doesn’t know what to reply, so he just keeps eating.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

At exactly 7 a.m. you knock on the door of the counselor you’re forced to visit.

You sit down in the chair in front of him and don’t say anything.

Firstly, he gives you a speech about how everything you say is confidential and he only will write a report to attest that you are cleared for duty (he avoids the part about the possibility of not being cleared).

He starts with basic questions that you give him one-worded answers to. Seeing in his eyes that he gets a little frustrated, you keep up your calm demeanor. 

“Your supervisor informed me that you show aggressive behavior.”

When you don’t react to that statement, he adds: “What makes him say that?”

“I don’t know what makes him say that. I cannot read his mind.” You undermine his question.

The counselor rephrases his question: “Do you have any idea why he could have said that?”

“I hit the mirror in the interrogation room.”

That makes him furrow his eyebrows: “That’s it?”

“And I jumped into the ocean to rescue someone from drowning.”

“I see.” He writes something down.

This goes on for about half an hour. It’s obviously not as easy as he thought to coax personal information out of you. One of the few perks of being tortured for six months.

Finally, he lets you leave.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“How did it go?” Spencer asks when you sit down at your desk. “Guess we will know after Hotchner called me into his office. Why are you here so early?”

“I was only about thirteen minutes and twenty seconds earlier than usual. Fourteen when you don’t take the elevator ride into consideration.”

You lean against your desk: “That wasn’t my question.”

“I took the earlier train to talk to you before work.”

“To talk to me before work?” Now you’re really intrigued.

“Yeah, because of your evaluation.”

A little disappointed you lean back and take a sip of the coffee Spencer brought.

Of course, he picks up on it and asks: “Did you expect me to say something else?”

You pause until Hotchner calls your name, pretending you were just about to answer.

“Sir?” You close the door of his office behind you.

“I got your evaluation.” _Jeez, this man needs to work on his Soft Skills._ “You’re cleared.”

You let out a quite sigh. He looks like he wants to add something but decides against it. So, you just nod at him and leave.

On your way down the stairs, you give Reid a thumbs up. He smiles at you widely.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“God damn, Reid.” Is the first thing Morgan says when he comes in. His eyes dart between the two of you. Since you’re wearing your hair up, he can see your undercut as well.

“Are you two in a gang or something?”

You give him a sweet smile: “Do you want to join? Oh, wait…” 

Spencer giggles and Morgan huffs at you: “Uncalled for, Byrne.”

“Ah, before I forget…” Spencer gets his bag and pulls out your sweater.

“Thanks.” You take it from him.

Morgan is still staring at you: “Okay, seriously, what did you two do this weekend?”

Reid shrugs his shoulder: “Gang-Stuff.”

“You joined a gang?” JJ suddenly appears next to Morgan. “Yeah,” Morgan points at the two of you, “Look at them.”

She smiles: “I am. Looks good, Reid.”

His cheeks flush and he stares at his hands.

Did JJ fluster him? And why do you feel a sting of jealousy?


	9. Takeoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intrusive thoughts and being under pressure from work send you spiralling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [stress; drug use; unhealthy coping mechanism]

Hotchner getting on your nerves, your newly found jealousy of JJ, your confusion about Reid. You really try to keep it together. You _really_ try.

What confusion though? You like him, it’s cool to spend time with him.

You make until Thursday evening. Then you just give up. After sitting on your sofa for solid thirty minutes, staring at the wall, you decide to get fucked up. You throw yourself off the wagon. You change into a short dress. Searching in your dresser, you look for your sock with coke in it.

You call yourself an uber and make a neat line on the kitchen counter. After downing a generous shot of vodka, you bow down and snort it all up. You only take your keys with you, pushing them into the side of your bra.

In the uber you start to fidget. Restlessly bouncing your leg and tapping your fingers on the window. You paid the uber in advance and get out without another word. The bouncer of the club merely looks at you and lets you in immediately.

Feeling the loud music echo in your chest, you make your way to the dancefloor. Already high out of your mind, you start to jump and dance. You lost all track of time when you feel someone behind you.

You turn around, seeing a guy, blond, easy on the eyes, smiling at you. Pushing down the cruel thought of wishing that it were Reid, you put your arms around his neck and dance with him.

He guides you to the bar, holding your hand, and orders shots. “Nick.” He introduces himself. “Emily.” You yell back and shake is hand. Nick grins at you and pays the bartender. You take both shots and down them. Stunned, he stares at you.

“Oh, those weren’t for me?”

He lets out a laugh and orders more.

Nick wants to dance again, you follow him. On the dance floor, you sway around, touching his shoulders now and then.

Suddenly, someone grabs your waist and lets their hands wander all over your back. You turn around. Too high, to assess the situation properly, you immediately punch them in the face. Hard.

The guy stumbles back. Holding his cheek, he shouts: “Crazy bitch!”

Nick seemingly wants to defuse the situation and grabs you by the elbow to pull you away. Wrong move though, touching you there.

Relentlessly, your brain sends shocks through your body. You ram your elbow into his chest and rip your arm out of his grip. “Fuck!” He groans.

By now, a lot of people look at you. Quickly, you make your way through the crowd and to the exit. The cold air almost knocks you over. Leaning against the wall, you take a few deep breaths.

Only now you realize, that in your frenzy, your brilliant idea of only taking your keys, means you have no way of calling or paying an uber or taxi. You rub your face and look around. The next metro station is a few blocks away but riding without a ticket would be a stupid thing to have in your personnel file.

Cursing, you start to walk back to your apartment.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

The ringing of your alarm violently pierces into your brain. You don’t know how long you slept. The throbbing pain in your head lets you know that it probably wasn’t much. You down a bottle of water and do your best to appear put together.

Grabbing your steering wheel, makes you notice how bad your hand looks. _Shit._ You flex it a few times. It doesn’t hurt that much.

You try to hide it in your pocket but working with profiles lets you get away with it for only so long. “What happened to your hand?” JJ asks worried.

“Went a little too hard on a punching bag.”

“You mean, you didn’t punch glass for once?” Morgan annoys you.

You shoot him a deadly look: “Want to be next?”

Spencer walks over from the coffee machine: “Did you sleep under eight hours?”

“What makes you say that?” You ask, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Reid explains unnecessarily: “You look tired.”

“Can you all just mind your own business?” You snap.

Seeing the shocked look in Spencer’s eyes makes you instantly regret it. However, you don’t say anything else and turn back to your files.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Just before noon, you get called on a case. Flying is even more painful than…just existing.

Halfway to Huston, you go to the bathroom, trying not to run, and throw up in the toilet.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself. A look in the mirror makes you wonder how you even made it this far. You wash your face and sort out your hair. At least you managed to put on fresh clothes this morning.

You gargle water several times, not really getting rid of the disgusting taste in your mouth. After several deep breaths, you exit the bathroom. When you walk over to the coffee machine, Spencer follows you.

Straight away, he asks: “Did I do something to anger you?”

“No, I- I just had a bad night. Sorry.” You take your coffee and try to squeeze past him to walk back to your seat. Spencer blocks your way, and you bump into his shoulder. You just stare into his eyes, getting lost in them. You see his mouth move but are way too entranced by his smell to listen.

“Emily?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”

Whispering, Spencer repeats his question: “Did you take something last night?”

You stare back, but he doesn’t move. “Yeah”.” You finally admit.

He looks you up and down, it makes you feel naked.

“Cocaine?”

You swallow hard: “Please stop asking.”

“I worry.” He pleads.

You have to try extremely hard not to cry: “I know.”


	10. Stray Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting a hangover, you try to catch an unsub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [canon-typical violence; some drama]

The next two days are rough. You hit the ground running, new bodies turning up every evening. While still fighting your hangover, you desperately try to do your work. It’s been going alright. The only thing that throws you off balance, are the worried and sad looks Spencer shoots in your direction. You don’t sleep.

On the second night, however, exhaustion takes over and you finally close your eyes. But not for long. Two hours later, you get woken up by Hotchner banging on your hotel room door to let you know another body has been discovered.

When you step outside, you barely make it to the SUV. Hotchner informs you that you and he will head to the crime scene while the others work on the profile, adding the new information of the latest victim.

The ride to the crime scene is dead silent. Your eyes get heavy and your head droops to your chest. “We’re here.” Hotchner declares and gets out of the car. Two police cars are parked on the side of the road. The body is in a ditch a few feet to the right.

“He’s getting sloppy.” You observe. “Throwing her away like that is risky. He’s escalating.” Hotchner looks around without commenting on what you just said. You put on your gloves and turn to the crime scene technicians: “Are you done with the body?”

They nod at you and you step closer. The victim is laying face down, slightly rolled onto her side. You kneel down and push her over. Her face is frozen in a grimace. Carefully, you brush the strands of hair out of her face. It’s hard to look at her with her eyes still open. But she deserves to be looked at, taken care of. You examine her hands. She definitely put up a fight.

There are three entry wounds in her chest. You roll her on her side again and look at her back. “No exit wounds.” You tell Hotchner. “He’s using a different weapon.” The other victims didn’t have the bullets in them. Only holes.

Hotchner squats next to you: “You don’t need to do that. We have a medical examiner for this.”

You want to be offended by his words, but for a change his voice is kind. “Yeah, but we’ll have to wait on the report, and we’ll lose another day.”

When you trace your fingers over the gun shots wounds, he lets you go on and observes you quietly. You take a deep breath and push your finger inside one of them. It makes an unpleasant sludgy sound, and you swallow hard.

Your index finger isn’t even fully inside when you feel the bullet. Carefully, you grab it and pull it out. You hold it up and Hotchner aims his flashlight at it. “You’re right.” He tells you.

“From what I can gather, she fought back more than he expected. He could not use the revolver he used on the others and shot her with hollow-point bullets.”

Hotchner gets an evidence bag and you let the bullet fall into it.

“Well done.” His praise catches you off guard.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the police station your adrenaline from being around a corpse has worn off and you collapse into a chair. Spencer hands you a coffee and a bottle of water. You give him a tired smile.

“Our unsub seems to realize we are closing in on him. He is panicking.” Hotchner summarizes your findings.

“What’s his endgame?” Morgan asks.

“I don’t think he has one.” Reid comments. “He wasn’t careful with his killings before, barely managed to leave no DNA, and now he risks being captured by being this reckless.”

“I think he wants to be captured.” You think out loud.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t put up a fight.” Hotchner says.

“But we have more to go on now.” JJ reminds you. “We only knew of one weapon. Now we have two. That should scale down our pool of suspects.”

While the others call Garcia, you step outside to drink your coffee in silence and get some fresh air. Spencer follows you once again.

“Are you practicing for your next observation job?”

He ignores your question: “How did we get the information about the other weapon so quickly?”

“I looked at the body.” You answer deadpan and take a sip of your coffee.

Spencer blinks surprised: “Did you pull the bullet out?”

“Yes.” You shrug your shoulders.

He raises his eyebrow: “We are around dead bodies fairly often, but no one has ever had the courage to do that.”

“Oh. That explains why Hotchner said something nice to me.”

Spencer shakes his head: “You’re unbelievable.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Your initiative with the body pays off: Garcia is able to narrow it down to one suspect. The team is suited up with vests and gets ready to breach. Hotchner knocks on the front door and yells: “FBI! Open up.”

He gives the unsub five seconds to respond, then Morgan pursues his favorite hobby and kicks down the door.

Reid and you go round the back and smash the glass of the back door. Reid obviously withholding a joke about you being an expert for that.

The others scan the rooms downstairs, while you and Reid make your way up the staircase. He’s walking behind you, tapping your shoulder before you enter the hallway to let you know he’s there. Weapons at the ready, you split up.

Your heart pounding hard, you swing open the door to what turns out to be the bathroom. No one here. Just before you go to open the next door, you hear Spencer’s distressed voice. Carefully to not make any noise, you walk towards the open door. The unsub is standing behind his bed, pointing a revolver at Reid.

He hasn’t noticed you yet and you make your way to the doorframe. Spencer tries to calm him down. You scream internally when he puts his gun back into it’s holster and holds up his hands. _For fucks sake._ Lowering your gun, you enter the room.

“Stop! I will shoot you!” The unsub threatens.

“Who will you shoot first?” You ask nonchalantly.

His eyes dart between the two of you.

Spencer stiffens besides you, apparently regretting that he put his gun away.

“Do you really want to die here?” He continues to argue with the unsub.

“Do you?” The man counters.

You hear the others coming upstairs and see the panic in the unsub’s eyes.

You know what he is going to do before he even put his finger around the trigger.

When his gun goes off, you jump in front of Reid, catching the bullets with your vest. The force of it pushes you backwards into Spencer, but you manage to shoot the unsub in both shoulders, immediately disabling him.

You stumble, but Spencer catches you by throwing his arms around you. Slowly, he sinks to the ground with you. The others storm in. Hotchner walks over to the unsub to cuff him, while Morgan squats next to you: “You okay?”

You point at the bullets in your vest and breathe out: “Been better.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Groaning, you take off your vest and let Hotchner bag it for evidence.

Spencer sits down next to you in the back of the ambulance.

“Thank you.” He mumbles.

“You’re welcome.” You squeeze his hand.

“How did you know he would shoot me?”

“The last victim.” You answer. “He shot her in panic because she put up a fight. You were the easier target. He always chose the easier target.” 

“It’s because I put my gun away, isn’t it?” Spencer sighs.

You don’t need to answer that.

When JJ walks over, you realize that Spencer is still holding your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. He only lets go when she is right in front of you and you tug it gently out of his grasp.


	11. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to take care of Spencer but things go sideways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a fraction of fluff; distress; angst]

“Spencer!” You repeatedly knock on his door. You saw it in his eyes when you got off the jet from Huston. The self-doubt. The pain. He hates himself because he made you catch bullets for him. You tried to talk to him on the way back to Quantico, but you could only say so much with the rest of the team around.

“Spencer, I know you’re home.” You knock again.

“Please, leave.” His quiet voice comes from directly behind the door.

“Let me in.” You try to persuade him.

“Leave.” Spencer’s voice is less pleading now. Almost angry.

“No. Open the door or I will fucking kick it down.”

It’s silent for almost a minutes after that. Then you hear the lock of the door klick.

Spencer looks disheveled, having a half stern, half sad look on his face. When he doesn’t move and just stares at you, you squeeze by him and enter his apartment. It looks better than he made it sound. It’s dark but full of books. Like a secret library in a basement of an old building.

When you turn around to look at him, he sighs and closes the door. You observe him quietly. He doesn’t show any signs of being intoxicated. You nevertheless ask: “Did you take anything?”

Spencer’s lips tighten, but he tells you: “No.”

“Are you planning to do so?”

“Why would I do that?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Your heart starts to ache. You have to blink away tears: “I saw it in your eyes.”

That seems to take him off guard and his mouth falls open: “You saw it in my eyes?” His voice is softer now.

You start to tear up when you tell him with a trembling voice: “Yes. Talk to me.”

Spencer lets down his arms and steps closer: “Please don’t cry.”

You rub over your face to dry your eyes: “I’m trying.”

“You want to sit down?” He points at a small sofa between the chaos of books.

“Okay.” You slowly walk over.

When he keeps standing in the same spot, you ask: “Sit with me?”

Hesitantly, he walks over. It’s cramped so you cannot avoid your legs touching. You look into his eyes until he starts to talk.

“You’re right. I thought about using again. I felt…I feel overwhelmed.”

You furrow your eyebrows: “By what?”

Spencer looks at his hands, fidgeting with the fabric of his pants.

“You don’t have to tell me.” You assure him. “Let’s just talk about how you feel and what we can do to change that.”

His head shoots up: “We?”

You give him a smile: “Why do you think I’m here?”

Now he looks like he is about to cry.

“Okay.” Spencer nods.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“When you fell into my arms,” he tells you, “for a split second I thought you died. I was so convinced that even when you were fine, I went into shock. I couldn’t see properly and my heart… I- I didn’t know what to do.”

The ache in your chest intensifies: “Spencer, you had a panic attack.”

“Oh.” For some reason, he seems surprised.

“I’m sure you read almost everything there is about that kind of stuff. Why didn’t you recognize the symptoms on yourself?”

Spencer stays silent for a moment and just looks at you.

“Denial.” He eventually admits. “I never saw anyone else on the team react like that…and I-“

“Felt ashamed?” You finish his sentence.

Again, he stays silent. This time longer than before.

You grab his hand to encourage him to talk. Last time you did it, as wells as now, you forget that he doesn’t like that. When you remember, you go to take your hand away. But Spencer stops you.

“You.” He mumbles.

Your eyes dart over his face: “What?”

He takes a deep breath and looks at you: “I feel overwhelmed by you.”

You lean back. That’s not what you intended. Shit. Maybe you went too far. _Fuck._

“I’m sorry.” You immediately start to apologize. “Sorry.” You get up and this time Spencer lets go of your hand.

“Sorry, I was in no position to push you like that. Sorry. I didn’t mean to force you to talk to me.”

Spencer just stares at you. Is that confusion on his face?

“I’m really sorry, Spencer. Please, call an emergency number and talk to someone qualified.”

Before he can say anything, you’re out the door.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

You hold it together until you’re home. Then you sink to the floor and start to sob. What were you thinking? He clearly didn’t want you to intervene like that. Reid probably wanted to talk to a professional or someone who knows him better. Like JJ…

Trembling, you get up. You take your phone out, secretly hoping for a message by Spencer. _Stupid._

The screen tells you that it’s Tuesday. Everyone has tomorrow off because you were on a case during the weekend. You turn off your phone and throw it away, somewhere in the direction of the sofa. 

You try to calm down, but nothing works. Not knowing what else to do, you take a sleeping pill. Laying down on your bed, you wait for the void to suck you in.


	12. Partners in Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Self-) Doubt leads to at first healthy, then unhealthy coping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [distress; substance abuse]

You sleep for a long time. Your unconscious knows that you don’t want to wake up right now. When you finally get up, you’re just as agitated as last night. 

Yoga and other grounding-techniques help a little. You need to get out of your apartment. You try to dull your intrusive thoughts by concentrating on marginal things like how many tiles are on the wall opposite your shower.

You get in your car and drive around until you decide to get coffee. With a big cup, you make another decision: To drive to the BAU. It will be a productive way to distract yourself. It’s just past noon when you get in the elevator. 

You only have your badge and your coffee with you. That should be all you need for some hours of paperwork. You enter the bullpen. It’s weird to be the only one there. Well, correction: The only one except for Hotchner. 

You sit down at your desk and shuffle through the files. Without getting up again to talk to Hotchner, you start to work on them and drink your coffee. The hot liquid helps to calm you down. 

After an hour or so, you hear someone clear their voice behind you. You put down your pen and turn around.   
“What are you doing here?” Hotchner looks at you with his arms crossed.   
“Work.”   
“I can see that. You’re supposed to rest.” His voice is stern, but with a hint of worry.  
“I did, now I want to do something meaningful with my time.”   
Hotchner lets out a sigh: “I will kick you out by 6.”   
You nod and turn back around.   
\------------------------------------------------------------------

You get tired earlier than you expected. By half past five, you go to Hotchner’s office to hand him the files you finished.   
“See you tomorrow.” You give him a small smile.  
He just nods. 

Putting on your jacket, you get an idea. You don’t have your phone with you, so you use the one on your desk. The only number you know off the top of your head, is your old number at the DEA, connecting to your desk. 

You dial it and wait for someone to pick up.   
“Agent Isaacs.”   
“Huh, so you really stole my desk.”   
He lets out a laugh: “Byrne?”   
“Wanna get dinner?”   
You hear that he smiles when he asks: “Pick me up in half an hour?”   
“See you then.” 

You park directly in front of the main entrance. Isaacs spots you immediately when he comes out. You lean over and push the door open for him.   
He gets in and greets you enthusiastically: “I almost gave up on you keeping your promise.”   
You laugh: “I would never.” 

While driving to the restaurant you two used to frequent, you make sure to talk more about him and his job than he can ask about you. It’s nice to spend time with him again. You used to see him almost every day. It also feels somewhat foreign. Like you are talking to a memory and not a real person. 

You manage to steer the conversation away from sensitive topics until he says: “I am still working on your case.”   
You cough up the wine you are drinking. “Okay.” You comment.  
“Okay?” Isaacs looks confused.  
“I cannot stop you.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Do you want me to?” He props up his elbows up on the table.  
You lean back: “I honestly don’t know.”   
“I’ll only tell you when I find something important, okay?” He offers.  
You think about that for a minute. Then you tell him: “Tell me when you are about to arrest them.”  
Isaacs gives you a smile: “So, you believe I will get that far?”   
“You’re the only person who has at least a tiny chance to pull that off.”   
“Tiny chance? Should I be offended by that?”   
“Don’t be.”   
\------------------------------------------------------------------

You cannot stand the silence any longer. Your apartment is so silent. While pouring yourself a glass of vodka, you put on music.  
When the glass is empty, you throw it against the wall. You like the sound of it shattering. 

You curse when you see how little cocaine you have left. Did you really use that much? Promising yourself to not buy more in the near future, you open the tiny bag. Carefully, you empty it onto the counter. 

Not caring if you turned the music up or the cocaine makes it sound louder, you dance through your living room. You don’t really feel your body anymore and it’s great. 

This goes on for some time, until your legs start to hurt, and you collapse onto the sofa. Far away, you hear a knocking sound. You ignore it and let your head fall back, closing your eyes and riding on the last waves of your high. 

Suddenly, the music turns off. “What the-“ Your eyes shoot open.   
Spencer is standing in the middle of your living room.   
\------------------------------------------------------------------

“What the fuck? How did you get in here?” You’re shocked as much as you are angry.   
“Picked your lock.” Spencer informs you.   
Your eyes dart around until they land on his face. He looks like he hasn’t slept, deep circles under his eyes. 

He says something else, but the white noise in your ears gets louder again. You don’t know if he can hear you properly or what he will think of you, but you don’t really care: “I’m high. If you could just leave that would be great.” 

Suddenly, Spencer’s fingers are pressed against the side of your neck.   
“Why are you taking my pulse?” You mumble, slurring the words.   
You’re not sure if he doesn’t answer or you can’t hear him, but the next thing you feel is him putting his arm around you. 

The bright light of the bathroom hurts your eyes, groaning you lift your hand to shield your face. “Lift your legs.” Spencer orders you.   
Too disoriented to argue, you just do as he says. You feel something cold around you and realize that you are in the bathtub. Your eyes widen in panic: “No, don’t make me… no.” Your breathing picks up even more and you can feel your heart basically jumping out of your chest.

“It’s alright.” Spencer tells you calmly. “Just listen to my voice.”   
You hear him turn on the water and stare at the side of the bathtub, still blinded by the bright white light. Your hands clench the edge of the tub and you try to get up but fail.  
Spencer keeps talking to you. It helps you to remember that you are in your apartment. You feel warm water drenching your clothes. 

It’s warm. It’s warm. No one wants to hurt you. You will not drown. 

Slowly, you start to actually understand what Spencer is saying. He is reading you The Hobbit. When your sight clears up you look at him. He doesn’t have the book. He just kneels next to the tub and showers you with hot water. 

Your mind starts to catch up: “You remember it word by word?”   
Spencer just rubs your arm. Maybe he heard you, maybe not.   
After a few minutes he checks your pulse again. It slowed down.

“You look pretty.” He suddenly says.  
You lift your head: “That’s not funny. “  
Spencer stares into your eyes: “It wasn’t a joke.”


	13. Show and Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and you have an enlightening conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tension; fluff]
> 
> TW: implication of forced drug use/torture

Your mind is still racing, but you calmed down enough to get a hold of the situation. Spencer has been sitting on the ground next to you for about ten minutes, continuously talking to you to help you stay grounded.

Then, a minute ago, something else left his lips. It made you stare at him. Unsure, if you heard him right. You raise your hand to turn off the water.

“What did you say?” Your voice is raspy.

Spencer tries to avoid your gaze, instead he gets up and offers you his hands. Right now, you’re too exhausted to push the subject.

Your legs are all wobbly when you get out the tub. The wet clothes cling to your body and weigh you down. You point in the direction of a small dresser. Spencer understands and goes to get a towel.

You turn around and start to take off your clothes. They make a loud splashing sound when you throw them into the bathtub. It takes you a lot of effort, but you manage to strip down to your underwear. You hear Spencer inhale sharply when he turns back to hand you the towel. The visual of all the scars on your back and legs must be distressing.

You only turn your head and hold out your hand. He leans forward without stepping closer and gives you the towel. His eyes wander down your arm and he looks at the scarred track marks again. Quickly, you take the towel and put it around yourself. When you fully turn to him, you see that his cheeks are flushed.

For a moment, you just stare at each other. Neither of you moving a muscle.

You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say first. Instead, you just walk past him and to your bedroom. Without a word Spencer follows you. When you get out fresh underwear, he suddenly becomes aware of the situation and turns around, mumbling a: “Sorry.”

You throw the towel away and put on some pajamas. 

“You can look.”

Slowly, he turns back around.

You see the sadness in his eyes. Like the first time you looked into them, but now it’s more on the surface.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but why are you here?”

“Your phone was off, and then your car was gone. I walked around the neighborhood to look for you. When I came back to your apartment, I saw the car and came up here.”

You just stare at him in pure disbelieve. With furrowed eyebrows and a trembling voice, you ask: “You looked for me?”

Spencer fumbles with his hands: “I couldn’t sleep because I was confused about our conversation. Why you left. I- I have two possible explanations, and either of them require me talking to you.”

You sit down on your bed and Spencer leans against the dresser in front of you.

“What are your explanations?” You almost whisper.

He clears his voice: “First, you think I didn’t want you to help me and was uncomfortable with you around. Second, you…I-“ Spencer runs his fingers through his hair.

“I- you said I overwhelmed you. Of course, I thought you were uncomfortable. What else could you mean?” You tilt your head and replay the conversation in your head.

He props his hands up on the edge of the dresser and taps his fingers against it. “That’s the second possibility.”

Spencer takes a deep breath and stares at the floor: “I meant…I- I meant that I am overwhelmed by your kindness and thoughtfulness and courage.” He clears his voice and looks you in the eyes: “I thought, maybe, you don’t like me as much and left because you don’t want me to feel like that and…I don’t know.”

“Oh, I-“ You shake your head. “Looks like we’re both idiots.” You let out a laugh. You’re relieved beyond measure.

“We are?” Spencer leans towards you, visibly unsure of what to make out of your comment.

You get to your feet, even though the exhaustion is really getting to you, and go to stand right in front of Spencer.

When he doesn’t say anything, you pull him into a hug. With one hand, you press him against you, with the other you caress his neck. At first, he just stands there, limp in your arms. Then, slowly, he puts his arms around you. He squeezes you gently and leans his forehead against your shoulder.

You just stand there. Holding each other tightly. Listening to the other’s breathing.

Eventually, you whisper against the fabric of his sweater: “I’m sorry. I should have stayed.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“Careful, I smashed a glass.” You warn Spencer when he walks into your kitchen.

He steps over the broken bits of glass to get to the fridge. You follow him and get a cloth to wipe away the residue of cocaine on your counter. The absurdity of the situation makes you giggle.

Spencer closes the fridge: “What?”

“I need to scrub this counter with bleach, or it will look really bad for me when my apartment gets raided.”

When you turn around, you see his anxious face.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any more drugs.” You calm him down.

Together, you sit down on your sofa, drinking the water Spencer got.

“Do you want a rematch in trivial pursuit?” He offers.

You can barely keep your eyes open: “Another time, my body is not heaving it.”

“Okay.” He nods.

Spencer dims the lights, and you ask: “Do you want to watch something?”

“Morgan told me about a show. Narcos?”

You let out a laugh: “Maybe not that. But besides a show about drugs, you can choose.” You open Netflix and hand him the remote.

Listening to the sounds of the TV and Spencer moving next to you, your head droops to the side. You hear the intro of some show play. Mostly, however, you feel Spencer putting his arm around your shoulder and allowing you to fall asleep with your head on his thigh.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

When you open your eyes, it’s pitch black. You are still on the sofa, laying on your side. You hear someone move. “Spencer?”

“Yeah.” You hear him from the other side of the room. “I turned off the light, didn’t mean to wake you.”

Sitting up, you look in his direction without really seeing much. You hear the click of the light switch and Spencer appears in front of you.

You rub your eyes: “What time is it?”

“1 a.m.” He’s still standing still, observing you.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? Did you sit on the sofa the whole time?”

“You were tired. I read something.”

You let out a sigh: “Aren’t you exhausted as well? You said you didn’t sleep last night.”

Spencer shrugs his shoulders: “It’s alright.”

You get up and nod towards the bedroom: “Come on.”

“I can sleep on the couch.” He still isn’t moving.

You look at him quietly before you say: “You slept in my bed before. Has this to do with your Germaphobia?”

Spencer shakes his head: “I’m scared I will accidentally touch and trigger you.”

_Fucking hell, how is he so considerate?_

“Oh.” You think for a minute. You remember how Spencer slept as far away as possible the last time you slept in the bed together.

You take a deep breath and walk over to him. Rolling up your sleeves, you hold your naked arms up. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

Spencer’s eyes dart between your face and your exposed scars.

Slowly, so slowly that at first you aren’t sure he is actually moving, he lifts his right hand. His hand hovers above the crook of your elbow and he looks at you for permission. You nod.

Carefully, he puts his hand around your elbow and runs his thumb over the scars.

Your arm twitches at first, but you manage to keep still after that. Spencer leans a little closer and keeps rubbing your arm. Then he lifts his other hand and does the same on your left arm.

Your skin tingles but it’s manageable. You try to breath steadily and allow the sensation to be registered as pleasant.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer mumbles and lets his hands fall back to his sides.

“It’s not your fault.” You give him a smile.

You quickly lean forward and kiss his cheek. Before he can even react to it, you turn away and walk to the bedroom.


	14. Affront

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotchner doesn't like the relationship between Spencer and You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a little fluff; tension; argument]

You let your hand wander over the mattress to your left. You’ve been awake for about an hour but didn’t open your eyes. Instead, you just laid there, listening to Spencer breathing. Now that he’s stirring and seemingly starting to wake up, you slowly feel around for his hand.

When you don’t find it, you open your eyes and turn your head to towards him. Even though Spencer is sleeping closer to you now, he’s nevertheless making himself as small as possible. He is hugging himself, head buried deep in the cushion.

You think about if it’s even appropriate to touch him right now. He’s your friend, and it’s already borderline weird that you continue to sleep in the same bed. Then again, you have a tendency to take drugs around each other.

Deciding against touching him, you carefully sit up and get the file out of your nightstand that’s been stashed away there for almost two years now. Isaacs telling you that he is still working your case, makes you wonder if you should take a look at it again as well. Maybe, now that you have more distance to it, you can see things you could not deal with before.

However, you still cannot look at the photos of yourself and quickly shuffle them to the back of the file. You go over the interviews, the dates, the geographical markers…Nothing.

“What are you reading?” Spencer has a nice morning voice, but him suddenly speaking startles you nevertheless.

You clear your voice and turn your head. He’s still laying on his side, but his body more open now. “My case file.” You tell him quietly. After a pause, you add: “I haven’t checked it out for a while and thought maybe I would notice something new.”

Spencer props himself up on his elbow: “But you didn’t?”

You shake your head. Sighing, you lean over and put the file back in the drawer.

“Mind if I shower first?” You change the subject.

Spencer gives you a smile and shakes his head.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Seriously, did you two move in together or something?” Morgan greets you.

Reid’s cheeks flush. You simply answer calmly: “As we established before: we’re in a gang now.”

Morgan leans back in his chair and squints his eyes: “I’ve never seen Pretty Boy next to a woman for such a long period of time.”

“Maybe you should get yourself a pair of glasses.” Spencer snaps at him.

“Woah.” Is all Morgan can answer.

You silently offer Spencer your fist and he bumps it with his.

“Byrne, Reid, my office!” Hotchner suddenly calls from behind you.

Spencer and you whip around and shoot each other an irritated look.

You walk up to him, Spencer shuffling behind you like a child that’s about to get yelled at by a parent.

“Close the door.” Hotchner orders.

You and Spencer stand still in the middle of his office. “Sir.” You address Hotchner.

With his arms crossed in front of his chest, he tells you: “I’d like to remind you that even though it’s not explicitly forbidden, I do not condone intimate relationships between my Agents.”

Spencer stares at Hotchner and then on the floor.

“What?” You ask with a loud voice.

“You heard me.” Hotchner tells you with a stern look on his face.

Spencer still doesn’t say anything. You take a deep breath.

“Are you saying we are not allowed to be friends?”

Hotchner’s eyes dart between the two of you. Just slightly, you lean closer to Reid. That gives him the confidence to speak up: “There is no rule or handbook or anything else that advices against friendly relations between colleagues.”

“Is that what this is?” He points at you.

Now he’s pissing you off.

“Are you serious?” You start to raise your voice. “Maybe it’s unfamiliar for you to see someone not just using Reid as a tool, but that’s not on either of us.”

Hotchner clenches his jaw: “Watch your tone, Agent.”

You go to yell at him, but Spencer starts talking first: “There is no reason for you to act this hostile towards Agent Byrne. You’ve been picking on her from the beginning.”

_He’s actually arguing with Hotch. Damn._

“As far as I can remember, you were the one to snap at her every chance you got.” Hotchner counters. After that it’s silent for a moment. With a sigh, you offer: “How about we stop this pissing contest and get back to work?”

Hotchner stares you down for a long moment and then says: “Dismissed.”

Spencer and you walk out and sit at your desks silently. Neither of you react to JJ’s question about what’s been going on. Apparently, they heard your loud voice down to the bullpen.

“You okay?” You eventually ask Spencer.

“Yeah. Thank you for having my back.” He looks at you.

You smile: “Thanks for having mine.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Simply to spite Hotchner, you offer to share a room with Spencer when Rossi says he doesn’t want to. There’re not enough rooms at the hotel you are staying in and two of the team have to share one.

You see that Hotchner wants to object, but before he has the chance to, Rossi thanks you wholeheartedly and hands you the key card. Grinning, you take it and walk off, Spencer trailing behind you.

“Thanks for saving me from sharing with someone else.” Spencer mumbles. “Rossi and Morgan snore.” You let out a laugh: “Yeah, well, I thought we are used to it by now. Sleeping in the same room, I mean.”

Later that evening, Spencer and you are sitting outside your room; On the small stairway leading up to it. You’re in Milwaukee for two double homicides. Spencer probably knows the case file word by word by now, and you cannot be bothered to go over it _again_.

“Should I show you a technique to calm yourself down when you feel you are going to have a panic attack?” You offer.

“Ehm- yeah okay.”

“I don’t know of it will work for you because of your eidetic memory, but we can try.” You get up and Spencer follows you. Looking around, you decide that the best spot is on the other side of the parking lot. You can see a lot of buildings, signs, and the lobby of the hotel through the glass front.

On the way there, you tell Spencer: “I need to stress you out to try it, okay?”

“Okay.” Spencer sounds more curious than nervous.

You take a few more steps and whip around with your gun in your hand: “On the ground!” You yell at him. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t move. Snaking your right leg around his ankle, you pull his foot towards you, making him stumble and fall on his knees.

You put away your gun and sit down next to him. Covering his eyes, you ask: “What does the sign on the other side of the street say?”

Spencer is breathing heavily but manages to get out: “Rooms from fifty dollars a night.”

“What’s the brand of the jeans I’m wearing?”

“Levi’s.”

“How many cars are in the parking lot?”

“Sixteen.”

“What’s the color of the armchairs in the lobby?” You are still pressing your hand over his face, covering his eyes.

He hesitates: “I don’t know.”

“Think about it.”

“Dark-Blue.” Spencer eventually says.

You let go of his head and wait for his eyes to adjust. When his breathing calmed down, you tell him: “Blueprinting.”

“You do that by yourself? I wouldn’t be able to ask myself these questions.”

Touching his knee, you tell him: “You’ll manage; however, you can also tell someone else to ask you questions if that’s easier for you.”

Spencer grabs your hand that is touching his knee and holds it tightly: “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”


	15. Fidelity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sweet bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [canon-typical-violence; canon-typical-drama; shameless fluff]

You’re coughing and can’t really see much. You were running through the sewer beneath the unsub’s house. It seems to be the way he moved around the city without being spotted by traffic cams. Of course, you were the first to enter the tunnel and run down the small stone path next to the water.

When you turned a corner, you ran straight into a smoke grenade you noticed too late. Your hands on the wall, you try to feel your way forward. “Byrne?” You hear Morgan yell through the earpiece. “Second right.” You couch back.

Finally, you can see again. Not far down the tunnel is a ladder in the wall. Probably leading up to the street above. Holstering your gun, you start to climb up. Just when you reach for the gully, it’s lifted. The unsub is staring down at you. _Fuck._

He lifts his foot and tries to stomp onto your hands. You have no choice but to let go off the ladder or he will probably break your fingers. With a scream, you fall down backwards. You lower body smashes onto the stone floor, your head and chest breach the water surface. Desperately, you try to get a hold of the edge of the sewer to pull yourself up.

After a few seconds of struggle, you realize that you have to dive down fully to turn around and get out. Throwing you legs to the side you glide into the water. It’s cold and dark and leaves touch your body.

Couching you get back up. “Emily!” You’re blinded by your panic but recognize Spencer’s voice. Helplessly, you raise your arms and try to get towards him. You feel him grabbing your hands. With a groan, he manages to pull your upper body out of the water. You get a hold of the edge and can push yourself out of the water.

Breathing heavily, you fall onto your back. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Morgan is already exiting the sewers up the ladder, yelling for Hotch and JJ to drive the cars down the street.

“Can you get up?” Spencer’s worried voice makes you focus on his face.

“Yeah.” You breathe out and sit up. Trying to wipe the water and dirt off your face, you mumble: “Thanks.”

When Spencer goes to lift you up by grabbing under your arms, you get to your feet by yourself: “I got it.”

“My earpiece is fucked. Do you hear anything?” You ask.

“They’re following him through the streets.” He informs you.

Taking another deep breath, you start to climb the ladder. You’re drenched. Once again. But you’re also angry. You will not patiently wait here.

Halfway up, you yell: “Come on.”

Before Spencer can object, you’re up on the street. Disoriented you look around. You’re in the suburbs. The houses are identical. You hear the sirens, probably in the next street.

Gasping, Spencer asks: “Where will he run?”

You scan the streets. “He’ll try to circle back to the sewers. Knowing his ways down there is his only advantage.”

Pointing to your left, you tell Spencer: “Cover that side.” He nods and you start to run in the opposite direction.

Your boots make a splashing sound with every step. While jogging down the street, you check your gun. You’re not sure if it still works.

When you hear the sirens getting closer again, you leave the street and run through the front yards, using bushes and trees as cover. Then you see him. On the other side of the street, making his way back to the gully.

You circle back so that you can run towards him. He only sees you coming at the last second and cannot stop himself from running against your extended arm full force. It makes him exhale violently and fall onto his back. The impact hurts you shoulder, and you stop looking at him for a second.

Unholstering your gun, you see him half crawling, half running, away from you. With a determined flick of your wrist, you throw your gun against the back of his head. He immediately collapses onto his chest and you run up to him and put him in cuffs.

With screeching tires, Hotchner stops the SUV next to you. He manhandles the unsub into the back of the car. With your hands on your thighs, you pant for air. “I- I really don’t like how often I have to go for a swim.” You tell Hotchner when he comes back.

He doesn’t say anything, but helps you take off your vest.

You throw it on the ground and sit down next to it.

All of the sudden you are exhausted beyond believe. With a sigh, you let yourself fall back into the grass and stare at the sky. It’s a nice color. Brighter than in Washington.

“You watering the lawn, Byrne?” Morgan calls.

“To protect and to serve.” You answer.

“Wrong city.” He laughs.

You let out a chuckle.

Seeing Spencer in your peripheral, you say: “What’s up Reid?”

He offers you his hand and helps you stand up.

“You get drenched during cases concerningly often.” Spencer comments.

“That’s what I said!” You shout towards Hotchner.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

You can’t remember the last time you were this relieved to board an airplane. Pulling out a blanked from the overhead storage, you instantly walk to the sofa and lay down. You push your shoes off and hug yourself with the blanket. Enjoying the atmospheric sounds of the jet engine, you drift in and out of consciousness. 

“Emily, we are about to land.” Someone touches your shoulder.

“Go away.” You mumble and turn your head.

A hand gently touches your cheek: “We’re almost home.”

Sighing, you open your eyes. Spencer is leaning over you smiling.

You lift your arm and hold Spencer’s hand against your cheek for a moment while staring up at him.

When you remember where you are, you let go.

“Go home and rest.” Hotchner tells the team. Looking at you, he adds: “You too, Byrne.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” You raise your hands and back away in the direction of the elevator. Spencer quickly follows you, holding up his fingers up in a peace sign at Hotchner.

You see Hotchner furrow his eyebrows just as the doors close and start to laugh.

“Want to go out with me?” Spencer blurts out.

Your head whips around: “What?”

Stubbornly, he stares at the wall of the elevator. “Do you want to go out and eat dinner with me?” He reiterates.

“Sure. I’m starving.” You smile.

“I didn’t think you would eat somewhere else than home voluntarily again.”

“I eat at your place.” Spencer counters.

“Yeah, but you know what I mean.”

He shrugs his shoulders: “It’s nice to do it with you. You intimidate people.”

You choke on your water.

Spencer’s cheeks flush: “That came out wrong…”

“Oh, really?” You raise an eyebrow.

Spencer fumbles with his napkin when he tells you: “That was supposed to be a compliment.”

His nervousness makes you chuckle: “Well, certainly an original one, Doctor.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

In the next hour, you ask Spencer a lot of questions:

When did you graduate?

How was your time at school?

When did you find out your mother has schizophrenia?

Why did you join the Bureau?

And so on.

With every answer he gives, you like him more. And with every question you ask, his eyes soften.

“I saw you panic a few times now, like today. How do you get over it so quickly?” Spencer suddenly asks.

Being more talkative in the last hour than you have been for probably years, leaves you with no filter and you repeat what you thought at the counselor: “Getting tortured for six months has its perks.”

_Oops._

Spencer’s eyes widen and you immediately want to take it back.

“I- Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.” You stare at your plate, not knowing where else to look. Waiting for the earth to open and swallow you, you stiffly sit there and hope it happens soon.

You hear Spencer move and kind of expect him to just leave. He, however, slides around the booth until he sits next to you. Slowly, he puts his arm around you, giving you time to object.

When you don’t say anything, he grabs your waist gently and pulls you against him. His other hand finds your face and he rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. You close your eyes and just sit there in silence.

You don’t care if the waitress walks by and sees you, your heart flutters too much to mind.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Spencer whispers into your hair. “I would have looked for you tirelessly. I would have found you.”

You gasp.

Leaning against his shoulder, you turn your head and look at him. His eyes make you want to cry. You sit up and he lets go of your cheek, his arm still around your waist.

Putting your arm around him, you lean into each other.

“I believe you.” You breathe out, trying not to sob.


	16. Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your back meets Spencer’s bookshelf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m bending the timeline slightly, changing Spencer’s age a little. 
> 
> I made a Spotify Playlist for this book: songs I quote, songs I refer to or songs that match the mood.  
> It's called HowDareYou [ReidxReader].
> 
> enjoy  
> xxx

“Wanna get out of here?” You whisper against the side of Spencer’s neck.

“Yeah.” Feeling him nod, you move away from him and get your purse out.

“No.” Spencer grabs your hand and pushes it aside. “I’ll pay.”

This time, you don’t argue with that.

In the car, you ask: “Do you want to show me your place properly?” From what you can gather, you only saw his living room. Leaving in such a distressed state weeks ago, made you forget what it really looked like.

“Okay.” Spencer agrees.

When he opens the door to his apartment you are greeted by a warm light. He left the lamp next to his couch on. Also, everything seems to be tidier than last time.

“Why does it smell like bleach?” You wrinkle your nose and turn to Spencer who is locking the door. He opens a window, then he tells you: “I didn’t have visitors for a long time. Four years, to be precise.”

You don’t answer immediately, instead you step closer to the overflowing bookshelves and look them up and down. When you turn around to speak to Spencer, he is standing right behind you.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The sudden proximity takes you by surprise, but you don’t move away. Your heart is pounding incredibly loud and you can hardly hear yourself, when you ask: “Why don’t you have visitors?”

Your eyes dart around his face, focusing on his beautiful eyes. Spencer stares at you, not backing away either. You’re so scared. And excited. Does he feel the same?

He looks at your lips and back into your eyes. “Because” he whispers and steps so close that you feel his breath on your skin, “I usually don’t like having people over.”

You blink and try to focus on what’s happening, not your fluttering heart and the overwhelming desire to suffocate him with your mouth.

Mere inches away from his face, you whisper: “Usually?”

“Hmh.” Spencer murmurs. The change in his tone shoots lightning through your veins. Suddenly, everything is more saturated, as if Spencer were glowing.

Tilting your chin forwards, you close the distance between your lips. They merge perfectly with yours. His hands fly up to your face. He clasps it and holds you close. You both let out a sigh. Your heart gallops - sprints, almost. Spencer tastes so good. He tastes like the sweetest medicine, with a pleasantly bitter aftertaste. The one that gives you goosebumps and makes you want to take more.

Slowly, you let your hands wander up his back and start to move your lips. Spencer keeps holding your face with both hands and presses his body against yours. Your legs feel like they might give out beneath you. You walk backwards and lean against the bookshelf.

Panting, your lips let go off each other. Spencer’s hands wander through your hair. They linger on your undercut. Gently, he caresses your neck with his fingers.

You put your hand on his arm and lean back to look at him, his hands still on the back of your neck. “I noticed your hand twitch when you saw my hair first.” You tell him.

His cheeks flush a little.

Spencer lets his arms sink down and rests his hands on your hips. You lay your hand on the side of his face and let your thumbs wander over his gorgeous cheekbones. 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes water.

“The last time I was this certain about something was when I wrote my hypothesis about…”

You silence him with another kiss. By now you’re sure you found your drug of choice. You’re hooked.

Grabbing his hair roughly, you change positions with him and press him against the shelf. When you let go of his lips, you litter his cheeks, jaw, and neck with kisses. Spencer’s breathing hitches. You feel his chest heave against yours.

You feel his hands tremble when they wander up your side. Raising your head, you look at him. Spencer’s pupils are blown wide, but his jaw is clenched.

“Are you okay?” You ask worried. 

“I-“ His voice is husky and he needs to clear his throat before he tells you: “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You smile at his honesty and grab his right hand with yours. You bring it up to your lips and kiss every knuckle. Even they are radiating heat. 

“Come on.” Intertwining your fingers with his, you walk to the couch. You make him sit down and kneel on the couch, straddling his lap. While your hands explore his chest, neck, and hair, you gently kiss him a few times. His gaze is fixed on your face whenever you look at him. The look in his eyes makes gravity shift. You’re no longer pulled to the core of the earth, but to him.

A question makes its way into the foreground of your mind. Spencer is twenty-four. You ask yourself if he ever had sex before. He obviously doesn’t socialize much. Rephrasing your question, you ask: “When was the last time you had sex?”

He blinks in surprise, apparently thrown off guard by your directness. You’re almost ten years older than him, it’s understandable that he may be daunted by your experience.

“You don’t have to tell me.” You assure, continuously caressing him.

After a pause, Spencer blurts out: “Nineteen. When I was nineteen.”

You give him a peck on the lips: “Okay.”

“You don’t mind?” Almost desperately, his hands clasp your hips. Like he is scared you will leave. You shake your head: “I’m more than fine with taking it slow.”

Spencer tilts his head: “Because it’s difficult for you to be touched?”

You smile: “I don’t mind being touched by you.”

“Okay.” He murmurs.

With newly found confidence, he pushes you off his lap and into the couch. You let out a giggle and snake your leg around his hips to keep him close. Now Spencer explores you. With wet lips, he kisses the side of your neck, your throat, and your collarbones. It makes your skin tingle, sending shivers down your spine.

Your head falls back, and you bury your hands in his hair. Spencer lets out an appreciative hum when you tuck on it slightly. You take a mental note to do it again in the future.

He touches you fairly innocently, avoiding your chest and everything below your belt. To your surprise, your core aches already, desperately longing for attention. But as promised, you don’t push him. You’re also not sure if you will freak out when someone else than yourself touches you there.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

You only stop making out, when your lips are swollen and you both need something to drink. Putting your arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck, you follow Spencer into

the kitchen. It’s smaller than yours and looks like it doesn’t get used much.

You let go of him to drink the water he offers you.

“Can I see the rest of your apartment?” You ask him. “Somehow, I don’t really get past your living room.”

Spencer lets out a chuckle: “Sure.”

He leads you down the hallway: “Bathroom.” He points at the half-open door.

Opening the last door, he says: “Bedroom.”

Without hesitation, you enter and look around. It’s nice. Lots of purple. You welcome the thought of spending some quality time in here.

Spencer stands in the doorway, observing you.

Remembering that time exists, you take a look at the watch on your wrist. It’s late; However, you have tomorrow off. “Do you want to go to bed?” You realize you never did this with Spencer in a setting where neither of you was intoxicated.

With his hands in his pockets, he informs you: “I usually stay up past midnight and read.”

You remember how serenely you fell asleep when he read to you. “What are you currently reading?”

“Anna Karenina. The Russian original.”

You smile at him widely: “Would you read it out loud to me?”

Spencer steps closer: “You speak Russian?”

“A little. I’ve read the book in English and saw the play, so I may be able to kind of follow what’s going on.”

He shakes his head: “Of course you have.”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms.

Spencer closes the distance between you and grabs your chin: “I usually don’t meet people who read the stuff I read.”

You lean into his touch and kiss him deeply. Leaning your forehead against his, you say: “As we established before, _usually_ doesn’t apply to me.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

„Все счастливые семьи похожи друг на друга, каждая несчастливая семья несчастлива по-своему. Все смешалось в доме Облонских.“ Spencer starts the novel over for you.

You curl into his side and he plays with your hair.

He interrupts his reading to ask you: “Is it okay when I sleep close to you?”

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you grab the back of his neck to pull him down to your lips. He’s still leaning down to you, when you trace his lower lip with your index finger and tell him: “Yes, just try to avoid touching my back.”

“Okay.” He kisses you.

It feels so natural. Like it’s the only logical thing to do. You realize that you wanted to do that for quite some time now. Maybe since the first time he spoke to you with that mellow voice. A voice so gentle that it gets pass all the panic, and fear, and anxiety, and makes you feel like your heart is whole again.

Carefully, you bite his lip. Spencer inhales sharply. You smile against his skin: “You like that?”

He’s too flustered to answer you right away. You bite the side of his neck and feel him swallow hard. Whispering, you reiterate: “I said: Do you like that?”

“Yes.” Spencer breathes out.

“I’ll remember that.” You kiss the sport you just bit and lay back down.


	17. Integrity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's going down. Or rather, you are going down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you like this book so far, especially the last chapters?  
> I'm fond of your feedback and comments. Let me know. <3

It’s the first night you spend in Spencer’s bed. You sleep surprisingly well. A few times you wake up just enough to hear Spencer breathe next to you, calming you down instantly and making you fall asleep again.

When you slowly start to wake up, you feel your hair being tugged on. You blink a few times to get used to the bright light of the morning. “Hey.” Spencer whispers. 

You run your fingers through your hair and realize what the source of the tugging was. Turning your head to Spencer, you ask: “Were you braiding my hair?”

He is propped up on his elbow next to you, denting the mattress: “Yeah.” Spencer admits.

You fully turn around and smile at him. He lifts his hand like he wants to touch you, but hesitates. Was yesterday just that? Yesterday? A weird evening, emotions boiling over?

You thought nothing could really scare you anymore. That your trauma made you immune to any fear that doesn’t stem from it. You were wrong.

It takes everything you got not to tremble when you cradle his face with both hands. The pace of Spencer’s breathing quickens. Urged by your hands, he leans down to you. Just before your lips touch, he asks: “Do you want to be with me?”

One of your hands wanders to the back of his neck and you pull him against you. His lips land on yours. You quietly moan. Spencer rolls partially onto you, tilting his head to the other side and kissing you again. And again. And again.

You gently run your fingers over his face, barely touching his skin, and push strands of hair to the side. “Yes.” You quietly answer his question. Spencer’s eyes light up. A bright smile spreads on his face. He caresses your cheeks and goes to kiss you again. But you’re faster. You snake your leg around his hips and flip him over, you now on top of him. Surprised, he inhales sharply.

Spencer’s hands rest on your thighs when you lean down and kiss his neck up and down. He claws into them when you gently suck on the skin over his pulse point. The blanket lays between your and his crotch, but you swear you feel his dick harden.

“Can I touch you?” You ask him with a low voice. His grip on your thighs gets even more intense when he nods. You lean back down and find his lips. With one hand you grab his hair and yank his head back, exposing his throat. His breathing hitches. You bite his lower lip, then the side of his neck, then his shoulder.

  
“Fuck.” Spencer mumbles. That makes you halt and raise your head. His eyes dart around your face nervously, not really meeting yours. His cheeks and neck are flushed.

Ever so slightly, you grind down into his crotch. He gulps.

Now you are certain that his dick is hard. “Ehm, sorry – I…” Spencer writhes beneath you. You kiss his soft lips. “What?” You whisper into his ear before press a kiss behind it. “I’m…” He doesn’t get out a full sentence.

Slowly, your hand wanders under the blanket. You push it into his boxers and let it linger on his hipbone. “You’re what, Spencer?” You brush your nose over his chin and press your cheek against his. “Tell me.”

“Oh Maker, I-“ His voice trembles and he audibly swallows. “I’m really turned on.” Spencer finally blurts out. You kiss his cheek and lean back up: “Should I go on?”

“Yes.” He frantically nods. “Please, yes.”

Now that you have his consent, you grab his rock-hard dick with your hand. It’s thick and warm and twitches as soon as you start to stroke it. So much for taking it slow. But you don’t plan on fucking him just yet. That may be a bit much. However, there are other fun things to do…

You scoot down a bit and take the blanket with you, exposing the tent in his boxers. Carefully, you lift the waistband and pull his boxers down as well. His eyes widen and he stares down at you. Grabbing his cock again, you marvel at it. _Fucking hell_. Spencer should work on his big dick energy. You push the t-shirt he wears up just a bit, so that you can trace his hipbones with your index finger.

You get comfortable between his thighs and keep stroking his dick. Maintaining eye contact, you lick up his shaft and swirl your tongue around the tip. Spencer lets out a stifled moan, clawing the sheets now that your thighs are out of reach.

Grabbing the base of his cock, you tilt it up and fully take it into your mouth. He presses his lips together, his chest heaving. After keeping his cock in your throat for a few more seconds you raise your head and tell him: “Don’t silence yourself. I’d like to hear you moan.”

His lips part and Spencer’s eyes dart between your mouth and his dick, slack jawed. When you sink your lips around him again, he lets out a string of courses, causing heat to rise in your chest. Setting a faster pace, you bop your head up und down. When you gently run your teeth over his sensitive skin, he finally lets out a load moan and his hands fly to your head, grabbing your hair.

You hum around his cock and feel him quiver. With your tongue flat against his dick, you press yourself down on him until your nose touches his pubic area. Concentrating on trying not to gag, you hold him there until you have to breathe again. Quickly, you lift your head, causing an obscene, wet noise. 

Spencer’s head falls back, and he starts to shudder. You know he’s close, so you lean up, kiss his lips and grab his hair again. You press his head towards his chest: “Look at me.”

He does, pupils so wide that his irises look black.

Letting go of his hair, you crawl back down and go right back at it. Spencer tries extremely hard to keep his eyes open.

Twisting your hand around the base of his cock, you suck at the upper half of it. One last time, you take him down your throat and feel his hips studder. Spencer shouts a high-pitched “Fuck!”, filling the room with moans while he cums. His face scrunches and his eyes fall shut. You catch his semen with your mouth as best as you can. He’s still spasming when you lift your head and spit out the cum you didn’t swallow.

Avoiding touching his sensitive cock, you caress his thighs and side. Spencer’s breathing is still erratic when you crawl up to him, covering his lower half with the blanket. His eyes are glazed when he looks at you. Then Spencer just lays there. Limp under your touch, his left hand reaching out to grab yours. It’s somewhat sticky but Spencer doesn’t care. He massages the back of your hand with his thumb and lets his eyes fall shut for a minute. You enjoy studying his features. The visible vein on the side of his head, his sharp jawline, and his pulse point where you left a small love bite.

You break the silence when is body isn’t tense anymore: “Did you like that?”

“I never had an orgasm this intense.” Spencer breathes out.

Smiling against his lips, you kiss him. When you go to lift your head, he grabs it and holds you against him. 

When he lets go, you turn around and reach for the bottle of water on the nightstand. You swirl the water in your mouth before you swallow it. “Does it taste bad?” Spencer asks when you turn back to him. The innocent and considerate question slaps a dumbfounded smile over your face. “I don’t mind it; I just don’t like the aftertaste.” You assure him.

Pointing at the several wet spots, you add: “However, you might need to change your sheets.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

After you went to the toilet, you ask if Spencer is comfortable with showering together. He tilts hid head and answers: “I think I would like that.” Grabbing his hand, you walk to his bathroom. He pushes his boxers down by himself as you do with your panties. You realize that you never properly saw his upper body. You grab the hem of his t-shirt and start to take it off. He lets you do it and raises his arms until you can throw the shirt to the side. You marvel at his slim waist and sides, dragging your eyes over his chest with his perfectly round nipples. His pectorals and upper arms show defined muscles without being overly buff. Spencer uncomfortably shifts under your gaze and you snap out of it. “Sorry.” You mumble. “You’re just really hot.”

He looks at you surprised like you haven’t told him that before. “I said I was serious about that.” You grin at him.

To even out the imbalance of nakedness, you go to take off your own shirt. Then you realize that he hasn’t seen your chest either. You take his hands that are hanging down awkwardly and guide them to your waist. You lean into him and kiss him. Spencer sighs at the sensation and his grip on your waist tightens.

“Go on.” You encourage him when you take a step back. He looks into your eyes, only allowing his gaze to dart to your body a few times. Surprisingly quick, he takes your shirt off and lets it fall to the floor. His hands fly up to your chest. Without looking at your boobs, he grabs them and feels the weight of them in his palms.

Spencer leans down and kisses just the lower part of your décolleté. You hum at the sensation. He leans back up and kisses your lips while guiding you into the shower. He turns on the water and diligently tests the temperature before he pulls you close to him and under the jet of water. The hot water makes you let out a sigh and you lean your forehead against his shoulder while it hits your back.

“I want to hug you.” Spencer mumbles into your ear. Without looking at him, you guide his arms around you in such a way that his palms don’t rest on your back. The heat of his body warms your chest, and you feel engulfed by warmth and comfort. You haven’t felt like this for years and your eyes start to fill with tears. You don’t want this moment to end. Just you and Spencer, deeply relaxed without a care for anything else.

Tears start to run down your cheeks and mix with the water dripping down Spencer’s chest. You don’t know if he can somehow feel or sense it, but he starts to rock back and forth, holding you tightly. It makes your heart flutter and you’re worried it might explode.


	18. Touch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is awful, luckily there is a next day to make it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [emotional distress; fluff; smut]
> 
> How do you like this book so far, especially the last chapters?  
> I'm fond of your feedback and comments. Let me know. <3

Pure panic pumps through you. You try to run, but don’t get anywhere. Your legs feel like they are made of jelly. It’s dark and all you can hear is water dashing down the hallway behind you.

“Emily.” Your name echoes through the tunnel. When you turn your head to hear who is calling you, a hand grabs your face. Your whole body jerks forwards and you loose your footing.

The same hand catches your arm and saves you from falling on your face. Finally, your body registers the outside world, and you open your eyes. You still don’t know where you are, but its still dark. When the hand lets go of you, you scramble backwards. Realizing you’re in a bed, you put your feet on the floor and stumble away from it.

Suddenly, it’s bright. You have to cover your eyes with one hand. It hurts your eyes, and you sink to the floor and brace yourself for whoever is chasing you. They grab your arms, you try to shake them off, pushing them away by their face. “Stop, Emily, stop.”

“Leave me alone!” You yell and finally manage to push them off you. You put your head between your knees and shield it with your arms. “Don’t touch me.” Whimpering, you try to remember where you are.

“Em, look at me.” Why are they using a pet name? The curiosity silences your panic just enough for you to lift your head.

Spencer. It’s Spencer. You’re on his floor. His face is distorted with fear. He is kneeling in front of you, carefully keeping his distance. You rub your face, then your legs.

“Fuck.” You whisper. “Did I hurt you?” Your eyes wander up and down his body.

“I’m fine.” Spencer shakes his head.

“I don’t believe you.”

He turns his head, revealing a scratch behind his ear.

You fucking lose it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You repeat while getting up.

“Emily, it’s fine.” Spencer tries to persuade you.

Collecting your clothes, you cannot bear to look at him any longer.

Sobbing silently, you collect your stuff.

“Emily.” His voice is stern but quiet. “Don’t go.”

“Look what I did to you. This was a stupid. I’m sorry.” You tell him, already in the living room.

Spencer follows you, observing your hectic movements.

“Em, I want to be with you.”

That makes you whip your head around: “Then you must be fucking insane.”

He shakes his head: “I don’t show any behavioral patterns that would indicate that.”

You let out a sigh.

“Please, explain it to me. All I can see, is that my friend is hurting, and I want to make it stop.”

You stumble: “Your friend?”

Spencer’s eyes widen when he realizes his slip.

“Please.” He pleads.

You have to hold on to the couch and take a deep breath: “Every day my heart breaks a little more, and one day there will be nothing left of me. There will be nothing I can offer you.”

When you look up from the floor, you see that Spencer is crying. It intensifies your pain in ways you didn’t think were possible. You shake your head: “Don’t cry because of me. I’m not worth it.”

His inhales sharply and steps closer. When you let him come up to you, he grabs your face with both hands. He waits until you find the strength to look into his eyes before he says: “You are fucking indestructible. There is nothing, _nothing_ that can break you. And you are worth everything there is to be worth of.”

Your mind tries to process what he just said. Your eyes dart over his face, and you raise your hand to wipe away the tears that dripped down to his cheeks. Spencer stares you down until you nod.

“Will you try to believe me?” Spencer asks after a minute of silence.

“I will try.” You promise.

He smiles at you: “Good, because my girlfriend needs to know how breathtaking she is.”

You let out a laugh: “You should introduce me to her sometime.”

Spencer leans into you and kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, then your mouth. You put your hands on his and tell him: “You know, my boyfriend is pretty great too.”

He chuckles and puts his arm around your waist, guiding you back to the bedroom: “Really? Tell me about him.”

“His dick is just as big as his heart.” You answer deadpan.

Spencer lets out a sound that seems to be a mixture of laughter and choking.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“What should we do about Hotch?” Spencer asks worried on the way to work. You shrug your shoulders: “Nothing.”

“But he said that he doesn’t condone relationships between colleagues.”

“Neither will he fire the best profiler that works for the FBI.”

“You think I’m the best profiler?”

“Obviously.” You chuckle. “He may fire me though. So, we should keep it lowkey.”

“I didn’t think we would make out in the bullpen.” Spencer informs you.

You pout: “Why not?”

“I-I…”

“I’m joking… It would shut Morgan up though.”

Spencer lets out a groan.

You smile and grab his hand while keeping your eyes on the road: “You have my official permission to boast about your girlfriend without telling them it’s me.”

“Really?” His voice is a little too loud and too high pitched. Embarrassed he clears his voice: “You sure?”

“Of course.”

Spencer squeezes your hand and only lets go when you enter the parking lot.

Morgan instantly passes him the perfect opportunity: “Hey, Pretty Boy, what did you do on your free day? Read book on astrophysics?”

Spencer gives you a look and you nod at him inconspicuously. “First of all, I already read two books about astrophysics. I don’t think its that interesting and useful for my job.” He basically shoots Morgan down with his rapid-fire explanation. Then, he goes in for the final blow: “Secondly, I spend it with my girlfriend, it was really nice. What about you?”

The expression on Morgan’s face can only be described as utter disbelieve and shock. He looks at you: “Did you know about that?”

You shrug your shoulders, but the corners of your mouth twitch.

“Hey, Rossi!” Morgan yells. Rossi just came out of his office to get some coffee: “What’s going on?”

“Spencer has a girlfriend.”

You observe Spencer’s body language and his face. He seems to be uncertain if he regrets telling them or if he’s proud. 

Rossi grabs Spencer’s shoulder: “Good for you, kid.”

News seems to travel fast, because half an hour later Garcia bursts into the bullpen and turns Spencer in his chair to make him face her.

“Tell. Me. Everything.” Garcia pokes her finger into Spencer’s chest to accentuate every word.

You lean back and enjoy the show.

Spencer shifts uncomfortable in his chair: “Could you clarify what you mean by _everything_?”

Garcia sighs: “What’s her name?”

“Next question.” Spencer crosses his arms in front of his chest. _He didn’t even stutter._ You’re kind of proud of him for stand up to her like that.

“Fine. What does she look like?”

“Beautiful.” That’s obviously not what Garcia meant, but it’s a nice loophole.

A big smile creeps onto your face, you hide it by taking a sip of your coffee.

“How long have you been together?”

“A few weeks.”

She narrows her eyes and looks Spencer up and down before she asks: “Do you have…you know?” You can’t hold it together any longer and start to laugh out loud.

Spencer just raises an eyebrow.

“Oh my god!” Garcia exclaims.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

In the elevator, Spencer asks: “You knew they would interrogate me like that, didn’t you?”

You chuckle: “No way.”

“Unbelievable.”

After a pause you ask: “Want to get dinner?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Spencer turns to you. There is something in his eyes you cannot place yet.

“I didn’t know there was more to it.”

Suddenly, he corners you. His hands next to your head, your back against the wall of the elevator. Your eyes widen in surprise. Spencer’s breath on your face lets a whole other feeling rise in you. You press your thighs together.

“Is that so?” Spencer murmurs, leaning closer but not actually touching you.

The ding of the elevator saves you and he instantly takes a step away from you. The ride to your apartment is quiet. You don’t know what just happened. But it’s exciting. You even forget about dinner; you drive home right away.

Locking the door, you feel Spencer right behind you. When you turn around, his lips are instantly on yours. You let out a surprised squeal and let him shove you against the wall. He kisses you like he is about to swallow you whole. It’s sloppy and hasty but turns you on within seconds.

When he lets go of you, you are breathing heavily: “Fucking hell, Spence.”

The pet name makes him smile and you finally realize what you saw in his eyes: lust. He disappears into the bathroom and from the sound of it, he is washing his hands. You just head straight to the bedroom and start to take your clothes off.

Your head is spinning when you sink into the sheets. Hearing Spencer enter, you lift your head. He took off his vest, jeans, and shoes, but besides that, he is still fully clothed. Just wearing your underwear, you feel exposed. “Don’t you want to take off your clothes?”

Spencer just smiles at you and crawls onto the bed until he can kiss you again. You let out a sigh and bury your hands in his hair.

He trails kisses down to your boobs and back up. You feel his hand wander down your side. _Oh.ooOOh!_

Spencer pushes his hand under the hem of your panties and goes straight for your throbbing clit. “Fuck, Spencer!” The sudden sensation sends shockwaves through your body.

He slowly starts to draw circles over it. Your head falls back, and you claw into his back. Somehow, he knows exactly what to do. Gently, he sucks on the side of you neck. When he feels your legs starting to tremble, he pulls his hand away. Your eyes shoot open and you want to curse at him. Then, you see what he is doing. While staring into your eyes, he pushes his ring and his middle finger into his mouth and wets them thoroughly.

You cannot help yourself but rub your thighs together to crate friction while you stare at him. Spencer leans down again, and his hungry lips find yours. You feel him push your panties to the side and slowly insert two fingers. You moan into his mouth.

He smiles against your lips and starts to move his fingers. Curling his fingers, he hits your g spot every time. You start to move your hips down to make him fuck you deeper. Spencer picks up on it. He adds another finger and speeds up his movements.

You let out a string of curses. He stretches you perfectly, making your muscles contract around him, putting you right on the edge. “Don’t stop.” You whisper into his ear. Spencer lets out a groan and keeps fucking you with his fingers without speeding up his movements. It’s agonizing how he keeps you on the edge.

While biting your lip, he pushes his thumb onto your clit. When he starts to stimulate it as well, your walls start to spasm. You grab the back of his neck and push him against your lips. His taste, his excited breathing, and the unbelievable feeling in your core make you moan again. Spencer picks up in speed. That’s enough. You become undone.

Your head falls back while the endorphins cloud your mind. Spencer’s movements slow down, but he doesn’t stop entirely. Your body goes rigid and you press yourself against his hand.

Panting, you open your eyes. Spencer pulls his hand out of you. “Where…how…?” You breathe out. He raises his hand and pushes the fingers that were just inside you into his mouth. Your eyes widen. _How the fuck is he so good at this? And did he…just savor your taste?_

“I read about it.” He tells you nonchalantly. You let out a laugh: “When?”

“When you fell asleep on the couch.”

“Of course.” You shake your head.

“So, you liked it?” Spencer presses a kiss onto your lips and looks at you curiously. “Fuck yeah I did.”

“I read about something else. Can I try it?”

You breathe in sharply.

Spencer hesitates in his movements: “Aren’t you multi-orgasmic?”

_Dear God._


	19. Towels and Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and You spend a well deserved evening together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [smut, fluff]
> 
> Still keen on your feedback!

“I read about something else. Can I try it?”

You breathe in sharply.

Spencer hesitates in his movements: “Aren’t you multi-orgasmic?”

Clearing your voice, you caress his cheek. He observes your face vigilantly, waiting for your answer. “I am. What do you want to try?”

Even though he looks eager, his face flushes and he cannot say it out loud.

“Can I- I just show you?”

You nod but stop him by grabbing his wrists: “Take off your shirt.”

“O-Okay.” Spencer sits up. You help him pull it over his head. Pressing your hand against the small of his back, you kiss up his side until he hunches over, and you can reach his neck.

You grab his face and put your lips right on his ear. “Show me.” You whisper.

Spencer shudders and lets his hands wander down your body. His movements are a little clumsy, but eventually he settles between your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look at him. His hands are shaking a bit when he grabs the hem of your briefs and pulls them down. The cold air hitting your core makes you squirm. Spencer turns around and grabs the blanket. He puts it around himself and lays down between your legs so that they are partially covered as well.

He starts by kissing the inside of your thighs while his hands grab the outside. You’re still sensitive from your last orgasm and the view of this gorgeous man between your legs lets arousal rise in you again. Slowly, Spencer kisses his way up.

When he finds your eyes, he keeps up the eye-contact and leans into you. Carefully, he runs his tongue through your folds. You let out a sigh but try your best to keep observing him. His hands wander up to your hip and hold you there tightly.

Your legs twitch when he finds your clit again. He keeps up the gentle demeanor and alternates between sucking on your clit and licking you up and down. You start to breath louder, but he’s way too delicate. After what he did to you with his fingers, this is not enough.

“Spencer?”

He instantly lifts his head: “Yeah? Am I doing something wrong?”

You chuckle: “I won’t break. You can be just as forceful as before.”

“Okay.” Spencer nods.

Before you can say something, he goes back at it. He’s very good with criticism, because _fucking hell_. He takes your word for it and the movements of his mouth get way rougher. You moan and fall back into the bed.

The short hair of his side-cut rubs your inner thighs. It’s delightful. He sucks on your clit and runs his tongue around it. Your hands fly to his head. When he hums in appreciation, it sends shivers through your legs and up to your stomach.

Spencer uses his right hand to add stimulation. He presses it against your clit while he laps up your wetness, letting his tongue run all the way down to your thighs. He draws circles with his thumb and heat rises inside of you.

When he notices you climbing up to your second orgasm, he buries his face in your core again. Pushing his thumb into your entrance – just enough to stimulate the muscles – and sucks on your clit again. You’re about to lose your mind and let out curses. You let go of his hair and grab the sheets instead. “Yes, Spencer, fuck.” You moan before you cum.

He keeps working you while your sight goes white. Every other sensation is overpowered by the firework between your legs. When Spencer runs his thumb over your clit again, you yell out another curse. It prolongs your orgasm.

Blindly, you search for his hand and push it away from your core. Your nerves are so raw, it almost hurts.

You feel the mattress dent and open your eyes. Spencer is laying next to you and studying your face. You turn your head, still high from your orgasm: “What?”

“I- ehm…It’s fascinating to see the effects that the sudden distribution of endorphins has on a body.”

You blink at him: “Nice save, but that’s not what you were going to say.” You pull the blanket up to your waist, covering Spencer as well. “So?” You raise an eyebrow.

Spencer shakes his head: “It’s stupid.”

“I’d like to hear it anyways.” You caress his shoulder.

He sighs: “I have never seen someone orgasm. Let alone twice. Let alone because of me.”

A smile spreads on your face and you pull him in for a kiss.

“You must have read an incredible article then, because damn Spencer, most men cannot even locate the clit.”

Confusion crosses his face: “That’s really easy.”

You laugh: “Yeah, well…what did you read?”

His cheeks get red again: “An anatomy book.”

You mouth falls open: “You learned that by reading an anatomy book?”

Spencer gives you a shy smile: “I looked up where most nerve endings are and how to reach them…”

“You’re unbelievable.” You shake your head and nuzzle into his side, enjoying the warmth and after waves of your euphoria.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Even though you’re the one that just got fucked, Spencer dozes off first. Hunger makes itself know and you reach for your phone. You order food and are about to put your phone away when you look at Spencer. His hair disheveled, lips red and still a little swollen, face peaceful…You cannot help yourself but to take a picture. 

Smiling, you set it as your background – not your screensaver so that no one at works accidentally sees it.

The food is supposed to arrive in about thirty minutes. Gently, you press kisses on Spencer’s face. You feel him smile when you kiss the tip of his nose. “I ordered food.” You whisper.

“Did I already tell you how amazing you are?” Spencer mumbles while blindly reaching for your hair.

“Not today, I think.”

“Hmh.” He runs his fingers over your scalp and slowly opens his eyes.

Out of an impulse, you ask: “Do you want to braid may hair?”

He immediately sits up: “I certainly want to try.”

You grin and crawl in front of him. When you lean into him, your naked back touches his bare chest. You flinch. You actually forgot.

Immediately self-conscious, you try to get the blanket. Spencer kisses the back of your neck: “I think they look beautiful. You wear them with graze.” He’s referring to the very scares you just remembered about.

You don’t answer but lean back again, giving him access to your hair. “I practiced on your hair while you were asleep, but this angle is different.” Spencer informs you.

You chuckle: “That’s sweet - and a little creepy.”

“I think it’s just sweet.” Spencer mutters under his breath.

Grinning, you turn your head and give him a kiss. 

When you check your phone for updates about the food, Spencer sees your new background.

“And I’m creepy?” He yells, pretending to be mad.

You give him puppy eyes: “But look how cute my boyfriend is!”

The term catches him off guard once again and his mouth falls open.

You roll over and get his phone. You crawl behind him and put your chin on his shoulder. Your hair falls into your face, but it’s evident that you are smiling. Handing Spencer the phone, you kiss the side of his neck while he takes a picture. He’s giving the camera his cute open mouth smile and your heart melts when you see the picture. You both look disheveled and sleepy, but that just makes it more perfect.

The doorbell rings and you jump out of the bed to run to the bathroom and put a towel around your almost naked body. The delivery guy eyes you up and down, but you just take the food and basically throw the money at him before closing the door with your foot.

Spencer raises his eyebrow at you when you turn around. “What?”

“He stared at you.”

“Happens.” You shrug your shoulders. When he doesn’t say anything, you ask: “Are you jealous?”

He looks like he actually has to consider it. “Yeah, I think so.” Spencer eventually answers hands in the pockets of the sweatpants you gave him. You let go of the towel and let it fall down. He’s visible flustered and looks at the floor before he meets your eyes again. Winking at Spencer, you hand him the food and walk past him to put on some clothes.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

You both set the picture you took earlier as your background of your mobiles. It’s a little cringy and you love it!

You talk while you eat, not taking the eyes of each other except when you need to look at your food.

When Spencer is done with telling you about his last PhD project a question arises. You listened interested and asked questions but…

“Does it bother you that I am not as brilliant as you are?” You blurt out.

Spencer stares at you like that’s the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. Your cheeks flush and you look down at your plate.

“What makes you say that?” He asks curiously.

You furrow your eyebrows: “I’m like sixty IQ points below you.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I’d guess you’re at about 127 which is incredibly high.”

“Yeah, but you’re off the scale.”

Spencer puts down his fork: “The IQ only refers to one kind of intelligence. You’re much more emotionally intelligent than I could ever be.”

It’s nice to hear that praise but he still didn’t answer your question.

“To be honest,” he adds, “it creeps me out sometimes how well you are able to read me - and also unsubs for that matter.”

That makes you laugh.

“I’m serious.” Spencer smiles at you. “You broke Keller within seconds of being in a room with him because you picked up on his micro expressions.” His demeanor shifts when he adds: “Furthermore, you were the only one in a team of profilers that figured out that I’m an addict.”

Grabbing his hand, you say: “Point taken.” 

After a few minutes of silent eating, you ask: “Will you promise me something?”

Spencer looks up at you: “Probably.”

“Tell me when you want to use again? I will not be mad or anything. Believe me, I understand. Just…just tell me, okay?”

His eyes wander over your face, they soften when he sees the worry in yours: “I promise.”


	20. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You clash with Hotchner but stand your ground. Spencer and You dive further into your sexual relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [conflict; distress; fluff; smut]

“Why would a dealer continuously call a costumer?” Hotchner asks.  
Spencer looks at the phone logs: “Usually, the buyer calls the dealer, maybe once or twice a week, not the other way around.”   
Your head shoots up and you stare at Spencer. You know how he knows that, but no one else asks themselves how he does. Hotchner just goes on with his analysis of the victims.   
Your eyes dart around the room, not one is batting an eye about what Spencer just said. Do they seriously think he just knows that because Spencer knows everything?

Taking a deep breath, you go back to the coroner’s reports. Even though it makes you sick to your stomach, you look at the bloody track marks all three women show. They were healthy, no history of drug abuse. And the marks…  
“They didn’t inject the heroin themselves.” You state.  
Hotchner and the others turn to you. “Why you think that?” Morgan asks.  
“The wounds.” You slide the pictures around. “These aren’t injection marks of someone who used on their own accord. They struggled.”   
“Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?” Rossi questions.  
You shake your head: “The wounds are too big for just a needle. They must have moved their arm and it cut the skin.” 

Now everyone stares at you. Really? Spencer’s comment was fine, but your observation raises suspicions? You cross your arms and lean back. Absentmindedly, you rub the inside of your elbows. “Byrne? Can I talk to you for a moment?” Hotchner gestures towards the adjacent office. You furrow your eyebrows and get up. 

Following him, you look at Spencer who seems just as confused. You don’t fully shut the door, too stubborn to protect Hotchner’s bullshit. “Sir?”   
“I keep you on the team, because you are a good Agent.” He starts. Oh wow.  
“But you cannot let your personal experience influence your judgement.”   
“How else am I supposed to build a profile? You all work with your experience.”  
Hotchner’s jaw clenches: “We use our professional experience.”  
“I worked for the DEA, what makes you think I don’t speak from professional experience?”

You try your best to stay calm, but you can already guess what he is getting at.  
“You really want to go there, Byrne?”   
“Yes, please enlighten me.” You sneer. 

Hotchner’s face gets even more stern, which you didn’t think was possible. “You obviously used yourself. You try your best to hide your arms, but it’s shows in your mannerisms. I send you to the psychological examination to check if you were still abusing substances.”   
You are stunned beyond believe. Not only did he profile you, but he also concluded that you used to shoot up heroin. Fair enough, you used cocaine in recent times, but he never really noticed that. HE ALSO DIDN’T NOTICE SPENCER USING FOR MONTHS.

“You said I was cleared.” You don’t even acknowledge his profile.   
“I cleared you.” Hotchner corrects. “Your examination was inconclusive, but underlying aggression was observed.”   
You stare at him until he keeps talking: “As I said, you are a valuable asset of this team, but I cannot have an ex-junkie interfere with our profile.” 

You see in his eyes that he immediately regrets his choice of words, but it’s too late now.  
“Are you fucking serious?” You yell at him. “You have NO IDEA what you are talking about. Do you think your suits and serious face give you ANY advantage? Do you seriously think your demeanor makes you a better profiler than I am?”  
He goes to open his mouth, but you continue: “And your profile of me is based on what? That you are not used to women trusting their abilities and them usually coming to you for validation? Or is it that my body is littered with scars of an origin you know nothing about?”

It’s dead quiet after your outburst. The team next doors doesn’t dare to move. Even Hotchner is just standing still, staring at you. Eventually, he nods. He nods?!  
He uncrosses his arms: “Noted.”   
You huff in disbelieve, but it’s evidently as close to an apology as you can get with Hotchner. You turn on your heels and walk out.

The team doesn’t even try to hide their shock. You just stalk past them and to the exit of the police station. Looking around, you see a café on the next corner. Halfway there, you hear Spencer calling your name. You slow down and let him catch up to you.  
“Are you okay?” He walks close to you, leaning his head down to yours.  
You let out a breath: “I’ll be alright. I’m almost as angry with myself as I am with Hotchner. I should not have let him provoke me like that.”  
When you enter the café, Spencer puts his arm around your waist: “I think you did great. No one has ever challenged Hotch like that.”  
“No surprise then that he’s so full of himself.” Even though you are still worked up, you enjoy Spencer’s company and lean into him while you order for you both.

You sit down on a bench in a sunny spot outside. Even though someone of the team could possibly spot you, Spencer grabs you hand and holds it while you drink your coffee.   
After a while, he tells you: “Honestly, I thought it was extremely attractive.”   
You choke on your coffee and let out a chuckle: “Seriously?”   
Spencer squeezes your hand: “Yeah…”   
You look at him: “Do you have a weak spot for authoritative personalities?”   
He fumbles with his cup: “I think I just like that you don’t take shit from others.”  
You let out a chuckle: “It’s refreshing when you curse.”   
Spencer leans over to kiss your cheek and you spend the rest of your break in content silence.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------

You were right. Of course, you were right. Not that Hotchner acknowledges it, but everybody else does. When you arrest the unsub, Spencer gives you a proud smile. 

Sharing the sofa, he sits with you in the back of the jet. You see his nervous tics and ask him: “What are you thinking about?”   
He rubs his thighs and turns to you: “I would like to ask you something, but I don’t want to…”  
“Ask.” You interrupt him.  
Spencer lowers his voice even more: “Did the same thing happen to you that happened to the victims – and me? Were you forcefully injected?”   
You stare at the floor of the jet: “Yes.” 

“With what?”   
You look at him for a moment before your eyes dart around the jet. Everyone else is either asleep or listening to music. “I don’t exactly know. It must have been a mixture of Vicodin, Scopolamine and some sort of hallucinogen.”   
Spencer thinks about it for a minute: “The opiate I understand, but why the other drugs?”  
You clear your voice and observe his eyes. You don’t think he is trying to pry something out of you but is just genuinely interested. “They ehm- did experiments.”  
Spencer’s eyes widen and he stares at the wall to process, piecing together the information you gave him over the last weeks. He doesn’t ask any more questions, just leans a little closer to you.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------

Two days later the tension between you and Hotchner is still thick, but slowly going back to the usual level. You are working on cases from other departments, giving consulting reports. Spencer and you sit next to each other and secretly hold hands a few times. At exactly 6 p.m. Hotchner declares the end of the shift and sends everybody home. 

“Anyone up for drinks?” Morgan asks.  
“If I can choose the place.” Rossi says.  
JJ raises her eyebrow: “You’ll be the only one to drink.”  
Rossi huffs: “I forget that you’re poor. First two rounds on me then.”   
Morgan springs to his feet: “Say no more.” 

Spencer and you look at each other, he shrugs his shoulders.   
“Alright.” You smile at Rossi and get up as well.   
“I’ll send you the address. 8 p.m. sharp.” Rossi declares.   
The others chuckle at his assertive tone but don’t object.

In the car, you ask Spencer: “You don’t want to go, do you?” He tilts his head: “I never liked going out with the team like that. But neither did I enjoy going to a restaurant before I met you. So, it may be fun.”   
The statement makes your heart flutter: “You know, your analytic answers can be really sweet.” He lets out a chuckle: “You think so?”  
“Yeah, did you hear what you just said?”  
“Of course, I heard what I said, I don’t see how that influences the quality of my statemen. I…” You don’t say anything, just wait.  
“I’m rambling, aren’t I?” He interrupts himself.  
“Yes.”   
Spencer inhales: “I should learn when to stop talking. I complimented you and then ruined it.”   
You pull up in front of your apartment: “I’ll just forget the second part of the conversation.”   
“Thanks.” Spencer mumbles and gets out.

While you take your shoes off, Spencer asks: “What do you want to do until we drive to the bar?” You turn to him and let your eyes wander over his body.   
He audibly gulps. You step closer and kiss him. You missed this. The last week you didn’t spend much time together. Sighing, you put your arms around him. 

Spencer presses his body against yours and grabs your hips, kissing down your neck. You feel yourself getting more aroused by the minute. His scent is intoxicating.   
You cradle his face and look into his eyes: “Yeah?”   
He nods: “Yeah.” Kissing you again, he slowly walks you to the bedroom.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------

You kick the door with your foot, and it falls shut. The dim light of the evening barely lights up the room. You turn on a small lamp on the dresser and immediately return to Spencer’s touch. While your lips further explore his, you open his belt. You slither your right hand into his boxers and palm his cock. It’s already getting hard and Spencer inhales sharply. 

His hands shake a little when he pulls your sweater over your head. You make quick work of his vest and shirt and throw them somewhere behind him. Pushing him towards the bed, you start to pull down his pants. When he lies down on his back, he props himself up on his elbows and observes as you strip down to your briefs. Spencer’s eyes dart between your exposed tits and your face. He kicks off his pants and you crawl onto him. 

You gently kiss him, and he lets out a sigh. Your hands wander through his hair, tugging it slightly while you nibble on his lower lip. You lift your hip so that Spencer can take off his boxers. Not taking your eyes off his face, you drag your core over his dick. Spencer claws into your thighs at the sensation. 

You grind down on him like that a few more times until you feel yourself getting wet. Swinging your leg over him, you lay down on your back and pull Spencer with you. He runs his hand up and down your side, all the way from your chest to your knee and back. You get goosebumps. 

You kiss him again and ask: “Are you okay?”   
Spencer smiles brightly: “Oh, yes.”   
You explore his chest with your mouth and suck on his nipples. At first, he twitches at the sensation, but when you repeat it a few times, Spencer moans. You hum against his skin, encouraging him to make sounds. 

Even though you appreciate the foreplay, you don’t want to wait any longer to have his dick inside of you. “Do you want me to be on top? Or would you like to be?” You whisper while caressing the side of his face. 

Spencer looks at you like he never thought about that before. “I think I would like you to be on top.” He whispers back.   
He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Quickly, you get rid of your panties and climb onto him. Spencer lays beneath you, a little stiff, chest heaving, eyes full of excitement as well as nervousness. 

You bow down to feverishly kiss him while you lift your hips and grab his cock. Positioning it at your entrance, you drag the head through your folds a few times to wet it. Spencer’s breathing hitches and he ones again grabs your flesh to hold on to something. 

Carefully, you sink down on him. It feels like he is splitting you in half and you curse under your breath. Meanwhile, Spencer’s eyes fall shut and he lets out a sound that can be described as a surprised moan. 

When you have him fully inside you, you give yourself some time to adjust to his size. You put your hands on his shoulders to support yourself. You wait until he opens his eyes again, then you start to roll your hips. Spencer’s mouth falls open and his hands fly to your arms. You twitch when he touches the inside of your elbows, but quickly forget about it when you repeatedly drag your clit over his pubic hair while moving your hips back and forth. 

You moan and your head falls back. The sight seems to intensify Spencer’s pleasure, because he moans louder than you ever heard before. You pick up in pace and also lift yourself to sink down on him again, pushing him as deep inside you as possible.   
“Dear…fuck, Emily.” Spencer breathes out.   
Him using your name makes you smile, and you lean back down to kiss him. Haltering in your movements for a moment, you grab his hands and put them on your back. Spencer’s eyes widen and he lets his hands run over your back. 

Then you start to move again. His thick cock stretching you and the sight of his beautiful face, cheeks flushed and eyes staring at you, lets heat rise inside you. Without having to tell him, Spencer takes one hand off your back and finds your clit. The external stimulation makes your legs tremble. 

You didn’t have sex for a long time and your body responds intensely. “Emily, I-“ Spencer’s head falls back. His husky voice makes you clench around him. “Harder.” You tell him. He immediately fastens his movements on your clit, and you moan his name.  
Your walls start to spasm and you feel Spencer tense. Just on the edge of your orgasm, you lean down, keeping up the rolling of your hips, and whisper: “Cum for me.” 

Spencer’s face contorts and he groans. It’s a sound you never heard before and you cum around his pulsating cock. You clasp his head and grab his hair, your forehead on his chest. Breathing heavily, you fell waves of euphoria crashing over you, spreading warmth through your entire body.

You move your hips a few more times to ride out your orgasm. Spencer puts his arms around you, holding you against his chest. Waiting until you can think properly again, you listen to his heartbeat. 

Eventually, you sit back up and get off him. Spencer’s hand finds yours and you absentmindedly brush your thumb over the back of it. After a few minutes, you get up and briskly walk to the bathroom to clean yourself up. When you come back, you pull the sheets over yourself and Spencer. 

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you lay on your side and observe Spencer’s face. When he turns his head, his pupils are still dilated widely. The look in his eyes is overwhelming. “I never felt anything like this.” He admits.  
You kind of want to question his statement because he said he had sex before, but maybe it wasn’t good…so you just take it and smile.   
You roll over and kiss him, lips swollen and face radiating heat, feeling nothing but joy.


	21. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spiral and Spencer crosses a line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [emotional distress]

When Spencer and you enter the bar, he still looks like he is in another dimension. Of course, it’s a fancy place. Rossi greets you with a bright smile and you’re glad that you put on a nice blazer and your hair up properly.

Morgan and Garcia are already sitting at the bar, ordering shots. “They really don’t waist any time, huh?” You point at them. Rossi chuckles and you sit down next to him, Spencer following you. “What about JJ and Hotchner?” You ask. Rossi shrugs his shoulder.

A waitress comes over to take your order, before you can open your mouth Rossi choses your drinks. You know that Spencer probably doesn’t want any alcohol, so you add a diet coke to the order.

He gives you a thankful smile when you slide it towards him. Rossi scuffs, but laughs when you take both drinks he ordered for Spencer and you. You try them and conclude: “Impeccable.”

Finally, Hotchner and JJ come in. JJ sits down next to Spencer, Hotchner on the other side of Rossi. You ask Rossi how he heard of you. It’s pleasant chatting with him, even though Hotchner is listening and observing every move you make.

When you turn away from Rossi to take a sip of your drink(s), you realize what Spencer has been doing the whole time. Him and JJ are chatting quietly, leaning towards each other. You know that it’s stupid. You know that Spencer and you just had sex. But it still makes your heart heavy. Are you too possessive? Do you expect him to be as isolated as you are? Basically, you are only spending time with him and occasionally with your ex-partner from the DEA.

You excuse yourself and get up to go to the bathroom. Eying yourself up and down, you let cold water run over your wrists. The blow you took to your forehead left a visible scar. One of many. Your eyes look tired. Suddenly, the insides of your elbows start to itch. It’s like they have been lit on fire.

Ripping the blazer off you, you push your blouse up to examine them. They seem redder than usual. You start to rub them as if you could scratch them off your skin. Your breathing and pulse quicken. _Focus._

Stumbling backwards into a stall, you try to calm yourself down. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire and freezing at the same time. You feel every single scar and mark on your skin. Rubbing your thighs, you try to ground yourself. You’re so fucked up. Way too fucked up for someone precious like Spencer. JJ isn’t like that. She is small and cute and sweet.

Why are you spiraling so hard? Is it because your body isn’t used to the amount of endorphins you felt earlier? Are you crashing like you are coming down from a trip? _Come on_. You have been gone for way too long already. Get out, smile, make it through another hour, go home.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer briefly touches your thigh when you sit back down, and you give him a forced smile. You empty both of your glasses and tell Rossi to choose something else for you. He happily obliges.

Exactly one hour later, you declare that you are leaving. You are more than buzzed and have to try really hard to walk straight. “Should we share a taxi?” Spencer offers, his eyes sparkling. You cannot bear it. “Nah, stay if you want to.” You dismiss him.

Even though you are intoxicated, you see how he looks at JJ for a second before he gets up: “No, I’m tired.” Spencer waves everyone goodbye and follows you. Hotchner announces that he will leave soon as well. You hear the team say something, but you are no longer listening.

In the taxi, you ask Spencer: “Did you have fun?”

He nods: “Yeah, surprisingly I enjoyed it.”

“You should do it more often then.” You tell him and look out the window.

After you said that, you feel the energy shift. Spencer doesn’t say anything until you are close to your apartment. “Can I come up?” He asks, audibly insecure.

“Sure.” You answer and get out.

He catches up to you and puts his arm around your waist. For some reason, the gesture moves you more than usual and you start to tear up. Maybe it’s the alcohol. With shaking hands, you try to get the key into the lock of your apartment. After a few seconds, Spencer puts his hand over yours and steadily unlocks the door. He doesn’t comment on your inability to open your fucking door, but you feel like shit nevertheless.

“Give me a minute.” You tell him and walk to the bathroom before he even fully locked your door. Washing your face, you try to get it together. You throw your blazer onto the dresser and take off your shoes, carelessly kicking them into a corner.

_Just talk to him._ He has been nothing but sweet and supporting since you got together, but something inside you…shame. You are ashamed. Ashamed of your inadequacy. Of your stupid fucking inability to be touched without getting worked up about it.

You dry off your face and sort out your hair. When you step outside, you see some of Spencer’s clothes draped over the armrest of your sofa and the light in the bedroom. You walk towards the door. Why are you hearing papers rustling? When you push open the door, you immediately want to throw up. Spencer is sitting next to your bed and going through your file.

You see the pictures of yourself on a pile next to him. “What the fuck are you doing?” You breathe out.

His head shoots up and his eyes widen at the expression on your face. “I- I thought I…Maybe I would see something…”

There are a lot of things you want to yell at him right now, but you even cannot see properly anymore. You turn away from him and rub your face.

“Leave.” You whisper.

He doesn’t move. “Leave!” You shout at him.

Spencer scrambles to put everything back into the folder: “I’m sorry, Em, I-“

Him using the pet name hurts you even more.

“Get the fuck out!” You step away from the door to put as much distance as possible between you. When he takes a step towards you, you walk further back: “You saw everything, you know everything. You’re done here. Leave.”

You point at the door.

Spencer’s eyes dart over your face, he looks afraid. “You think that’s what this is about?” His voice is trembling. “That you are another case for me?” His voice gets louder with every word.

“I don’t care anymore.” You state. “You saw it. You can no longer look at me without thinking about it.” You take a deep breath: “And I cannot take that. So leave.”

Spencer just stands there. He stares at you with pure disbelieve. Eventually, he walks out the room. You don’t move a muscle until you hear the door fall shut. Then you sink to the floor, feeling like you will never get up again.


	22. Kamikaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to deal with what happened between you and Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: description of blood/bleeding  
> [Canon-typical-violence; emotional distress]

You’ve been debating if you should call in sick for about thirty minutes. You certainly feel sick but staying home won’t make you feel any better. Finally, you get out of the bed. You’re cold and shivering until you get into the shower. Your eyes are still a little swollen.

You haven’t fully fathomed what happened yesterday. It was so much. First it was all good, and amazing, and heartwarming. Then it went to shit. At this point you’re not even sure whose fault it was. Yours for not talking to Spencer? His for invading your privacy? You know that he only meant well but you also meant what you said: him seeing the pictures of you after you were let go by your abductors…It’s the most intimate thing to see of you. You stored it all away, somewhere deep inside, and now it’s all back.

Even though you wasted time in the shower, you make it to the BAU in time. You sit down at your desk and play with the hourglass you brought with you on your first day. You watch as the sand trickles down.

“I meant to ask you before,” Morgan suddenly appears next to you, “what’s up with the hourglass?”

You turn to him: “Memento Mori.”

“And that means?”

“Remember your mortality.” Reid answers before you can say anything. He apparently entered the bullpen with Morgan but managed to stay out of your peripheral.

His voice makes your heart ache, and you can only bear to look at him for a few seconds. Reid looks like he hasn’t slept much either. Morgan says something and walks away. You didn’t understand it because of the white noise Reid’s proximity triggered.

Putting the hourglass back down, you stubbornly stare at a random file you found on your desk. You groan internally when you hear Reid step closer. Without saying anything, he puts down a coffee from the café you usually frequent next to you and walks over to his desk.

You consider ignoring it but eventually grab it and take a sip. Of course, he knows how you like your coffee and got you your usual order. You don’t know if he got it for you because he always does or because he tries to bribe you.

It’s difficult to avoid looking at him when his desk is right in front of yours. Especially, when you can feel him staring at you. After some time, you can’t stand it anymore and raise your gaze. Silently, you stare at each other. His eyes are sadder than you have ever seen. It’s also the first time you have ever witnessed him being this quiet.

Eventually, Reid opens his mouth to say something, but you interrupt him: “Don’t.” You shake your head. He closes his mouth and goes back to fidgeting with his cup and his eyes darting between you and his hands.

After a few minutes, he tries again, this time faster than you can object: “Will you please talk to me?” He pleads. You get a lump in your throat. Looking at him again, you tell him: “Not now.”

Reid nods: “Okay.”

Finally, Garcia walks in to announce that you have a case.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

You spent the time on the jet studying the case file intently. After you landed, you basically ran off the jet and to the car, avoiding Reid as best as you can. Now, however, in the lobby of the hotel, you are forced to be close to him. At least there are enough rooms this time.

As soon as Hotchner handed you the key card you briskly walk off to your room. After throwing your stuff on the table next to the window, you sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at the wall. Your head is spinning, voices you heard today repeating endlessly. Three double homicides, a small town in Colorado, no matching MO but all the couples knew each other one way or another…Reid relentlessly observing you, being bombarded by intrusive thoughts…

You leave your room to get a pack of cigarettes from the automat you saw earlier. You usually don’t smoke but you try to stay away from harder drugs, so this is kind of the only one you can consume right now. 

Sitting down outside your room, you light a cigarette and try to clear your head. Slowly, the emotions of the last two days start to overwhelm you. You managed to successfully push them away during the day but now your heart once again starts to ache. After you put out your second cigarette, you pull your legs up to your chest and lay your head on your knees, desperately trying to comfort yourself.

You have to remind yourself to keep breathing, even though your whole body is tense. Running your fingers through your hair, down your neck and over your shins, you try to keep calm. When you hear someone approaching, your head shoots up.

JJ apparently saw you and walks towards you: “Are you okay?” She asks you worried.

“I’m fine, just exhausted.” You lie.

You get up and put the pack of cigarettes in your back pocket. Nevertheless, JJ says: “I didn’t now you smoked.”

You rub your face: “I don’t.”

Now that you are standing up, you tower over JJ, looking down at her. It considerably changed the energy in comparison to you crouching on the floor hugging yourself.

“Spencer seemed sad today.” She changes the subject.

Not knowing what else to say, you tell her: “I noticed.”

You hope that the conversation ends here, but JJ doesn’t move.

So, you add: “You and Reid seem really close, do you know if it has to do with Prentiss?”

JJ flinches at the name but answers: “You two became great friends, I thought maybe he told you…I miss her a lot as well…”

Something in her voice makes you furrow your eyebrows. You study her face, and a lightbulb goes off in your head: “Was Prentiss you girlfriend?” You blurt out.

Even though it’s fairly dark, you see JJ blush: “How do you know?”

You smile at her: “So, yes?”

She nods, her face getting sad again: “Yeah…”

“I’m sorry.” You look at the floor. Not only were you jealous about Reid’s and JJ’s friendship, but you also completely overlooked the fact that JJ is gay and lost her girlfriend. _Idiot._

Nevertheless, relieve washes over you.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Hotchner sends Reid and you around the back to breach the house from the backdoor. You’re too stressed to think about your problems with Reid. You just do your job and follow him closely. When he’s about to turn the corner, you hear glass breaking. You grab his shoulder and pull him back. He inhales sharply at the sudden contact. Leaning forwards, you whisper: “I’ll go first, watch the windows.” You couldn’t make out where exactly the sound came from, so it could have been the backdoor or one of the windows above or something else.

Reid gets goosebumps but nods. Walking past him, you take the safety off and count to three in your head. With extended arms, you turn the corner. There is a shed at the other end of the backyard. Maybe that’s where the sound came from?

Looking around, you carefully make your way towards it. You hear the rest of the team inside the house and start to walk faster. They could have flushed the unsub out and forced him to hide out here.

Taking a deep breath, you open the wooden door of the shed and step inside. There’s a lot of stuff around, probably evidence among it, but not the unsub. However, you see a broken window at the back.

You step out and look around. Reid is making his way along the side of the house. Movement in the bushes and trees on his right catches your eyes. Something shiny reflects the sunlight. Even before you fully realize that it’s a piece of glass, you sprint towards it.

The unsub tries to jump at Reid, who hears him too late to pull up his gun. Just when he lifts his arm to stab Reid, you jump at him. Yelling, you take him down with you, smashing him onto the ground.

Gasping, you roll off him and get back on your feet. Reid goes to kick away the piece of glass when he sees that there’s blood on it. He looks down at the unsub, checking his hand for wounds. Meanwhile, you notice a sharp pain in your upper arm. You holster your gun and touch the spot. Reid and you realize at the same time, that the glass cut you when you took down the unsub.

Hotchner comes running towards you, cuffing the unsub who is barely conscious after his head met the floor. “We need an ambulance.” Reid informs him.

Concerned, Hotchner looks up.

“I’m fine.” You assure, the blood running down your arm betraying you.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Luckily, you don’t need to be stitched up. Instead, the paramedic tapes the wound and you’re good to go. While you’re sitting at the back of the ambulance, waiting for the paramedic to be done, Reid walks over.

This time, you cannot escape and decide to just look at him. He stands right next to you and silently observes your arm being taped. You see the guilt in his eyes.

“I’m fine.” You repeat.

Almost unnoticeably, he shakes his head. When the paramedic leaves, Reid sits down next to you. “Emily…” He whispers.

You straighten your back and turn to him.

“I’m sorry.”

“He was behind you; you couldn’t see him coming. Don’t worry.” You shrug your shoulders.

Reid shakes his head again: “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry I went through your file without your consent. It was insensitive, and stupid, and I’m really, really sorry.”

You see his eyes tear up, sending a spear right through your heart.

Breaking the eye contact, you observe the police cars on the street in front of you. Just sitting there, you listen to Spencer’s breathing. It makes you realizes how much you missed being close to him. After spending almost every day with him for the last few months, you were suddenly away from him for over a week; not spending any time with him alone.

Getting up, you look at him one last time and reply to his apology: “I know.”


	23. Reparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer tries to make it up to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [distress; fluff]

It’s been three days since your last case. Turning in your bed, you try to shake off your nightmares and go back to sleep. The unsub trying to stab Reid and you knocking him out was a close call. Too close for comfort. Scenarios of it going wrong replay in your head. You feel the stinging of the cut on the site of your arm and it reinforces the thoughts of Spencer getting hurt.

At some point you turn on the light and sit up in your bed. It’s not even 1 a.m. Your heart is still pounding hart and you cannot get rid of the feeling that Spencer is getting hurt. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you grab your phone.

Your thumb hovers over the call button. Taking a deep breath, you press it and listen to the ringing tone. Hopefully, you don’t wake him up. He told you that he usually stays up past midnight to…

“Emily?” Spencer’s voice is high pitched, as if he were likewise panicked and surprised.

You clear your throat: “Are you alright?”

“I-“ You can hear him put down a book and stand up. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

You let out a relieved sigh. Audibly, Spencer is pacing around his apartment.

“What makes you ask that?”

Hesitantly, you tell him: “I, ehm, I had a recurring nightmare.”

“Oh.” He stops walking. “What about?” His voice is so quiet, like he is afraid you will hang up if he talks too much.

“You. Being stabbed.” You whisper.

Spencer audibly inhales: “By the unsub you took down?”

“Yes.” You rub your face with one hand. “Sorry, I called this late. I didn’t know how else to convince me that you’re okay.”

“No, don’t apologize.” Spencer tells you.

After that it’s quiet. Neither of you say something. Neither of you hang up.

Eventually, Spencer whispers: “I miss you.”

You close your eyes to keep yourself from crying.

“Good night.” You tell him and hang up.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Conflict is brewing inside of you. You’re still hurt by what Spencer did. You’re still ashamed. But you’re also angry. Angry at your abductors. They destroyed something precious. Again. You don’t want to get them get away with it. Again.

This morning when Spencer brings you your coffee, you still don’t say anything, but you smile. Over the last two weeks, he never once missed bringing you your morning coffee. Even when you were on the case, he found a Starbucks somewhere and brought you one.

The hair on the sides of his head got a little longer and it looks really good. It blends in better with the hair on top of his head. His eyes light up when he sees you smile at him. Spencer smiles back and walks over to his desk.

It’s a slow day, but you’re thankful that you don’t get called on a case. You’re already stressed out enough. When it’s time to go, you stay behind to finish up a file. Spencer leaves with the others, looking at you while the doors of the elevator close.

Hotchner comes out of his office half an hour later. He sees you still sitting at your desk and walks over. Standing next to you, he tells you: “You should go home.”

You look up at him for a second: “I’m almost done.”

“Are you doing okay?” Hotchner asks.

Surprised, you turn your chair around, seeing him leaning on the desk next to you.

“I’m fine.”

He keeps staring at you with that stern look on his face. You want to make him go away, so you add: “I appreciate you checking in though.”

Hotchner nods and walks out.

That was the first time he asked you something like that. You’re not sure if he actually cares for you personally or if he just wants to make sure his agent is functioning. Probably latter.

When you collect your things, you hear the elevator ding and look up. Spencer exits the elevator. You put your bag over your shoulder and say: “I thought you left.”

“I walked around a bit and came back.” He informs you.

“Okay.” You walk towards him to get into the elevator.

Spencer stands in the hallway awkwardly.

While you wait for the elevator to come back up, you tap your foot to fill the silence.

When you get in the elevator, he follows you and you realize that he came back for you. On the way down he looks at his shoes. Then he follows you to your car. You don’t tell him off and let him walk with you.

Eventually, he musters up the courage to ask: “Can we get something to eat?”

You furrow your eyebrows: “You want me to drive you?”

Spencer clears his voice and manages to look you in the eyes: “I want to get food with you. I mean, I would like to have dinner with you.” He mumbles.

Unlocking your car, you answer: “Okay.”

He seemingly didn’t think he would get this far because his mouth falls open in surprise.

“Come on.” You nod towards the car. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The temperature is still pleasant in the evening, so you get your food and head to a park to eat outside. You hand Spencer his food and open your box of take out and start to eat.

“Emily, I…” He looks up from his food and over to you. “Can I do something to convince you that I don’t look at you any different after seeing those pictures?”

You meet his gaze and take a deep breath: “I don’t know.”

Spencer and you keep eating while he apparently thinks about what he could do. You don’t know if you ever could believe that. You cannot even remember how you looked at yourself before it happened. How could he be able to do that?

When you throw away your empty box, he asks: “What if…What if I told you something no one else knows? That I kept hidden, and I’m…I’m ashamed of because I don’t know what…”

You observe his face. You see that it takes him a lot to even offer this.

“An eye for an eye?”

He shakes his head: “No, I will be just as vulnerable and maybe you can decide if you can look at me the same after that. If the answer is yes, maybe you can believe me.”

Tilting your head, you think about it.

“I don’t want to coerce you into doing something like that. It feels like, you feel forced to do this. I don’t know if I could…Be okay with putting you through that.” You tell him.

Spencer shakes his head: “I’m here because I want to.”

“Are you absolutely certain?”

He nods: “I thought about it for weeks. Even before I…”

You scoot close to him and prop you arm up on the headrest of the bench to watch him vigilantly.

“Okay.” You finally agree.

Spencer nods. He looks at his hands, visibly fighting with himself.

“You don’t need-“

“I lied.” He blurts out, raising his head to look at you.

Confusion crosses your face: “About what?”

“When I told you the last time, I had sex, was when I was nineteen.”

You furrow your eyebrows and replay the conversation in your head. It seems so far away now. You sitting on him, asking him about sex…It felt nice at the time…

Tilting your head, you wait for him to continue. Spencer fumbles with the zipper of his jacket, eyes darting around.

“I didn’t.” He adds. He takes a deep breath: “I didn’t have sex before.”

Your eyes widen: “It was your first time?”

Spencer anxiously looks at you: “I, you know, kissed someone before…and” He clears his voice, “and somewhat touched them, but never…”

“Oh, Spence.” You shake your head. “I…” You don’t know what to say.

Suddenly, you have to ask: “How was it for you?”

Spencer lets out a laugh: “That’s what you’re concerned about? Not that a twenty-four-year-old socially inapt, drug-addicted virgin managed to cheat his way into becoming your boyfriend?”

“That’s how you see yourself?” You ask flabbergasted.

He shrugs his shoulders: “It’s true.”

“Don’t degrade yourself like that, you’re the most wonderful person I ever met.”

His eyes light up: “See?”

“What?”

“Knowing that didn’t change your opinion about me. Even though I find it questionable you think about me like that, especially after what I did.”

You let out a laugh: “You’re unbelievable.”

Shaking your head, you turn to look around the park. It’s so pretty. The light, the trees, the people walking around. Peaceful.

While you’re observing the scenery before you, you reach out for his hand. He grabs yours and squeezes it. You sit there in silence until it starts to get dark.

When you get up, you don’t let go of Spencer’s hand.

He follows your lead and stands up as well. Holding hands, you walk back to your car.

In front of it, you look into his eyes: “I’m still mad that you went through my file. However, if you want to as well, I’d still like you to be my boyfriend.”

Spencer steps closer and pulls you into a hug. You burry your face in the crook of his neck and let go of his hand to put your arms around him and press him against you. You missed his scent. It instantly calms you down.

Spencer grabs the back of your neck and caresses it gently. Then he kisses your jaw, your cheek, and your temple. “The is nothing more I want right now than for you to be my girlfriend.” He whispers into your hair.

You smile into the fabric of his vest: “Can I sleep at your place tonight?”

“Yeah.” You feel him nod.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer puts away your jacket while you take off your shoes. His apartment looks tidier than the first time you were here, but much more of a mess than the last time. The floor is littered with books, papers and clothes scattered across the room. Self-consciously, Spencer puts his hands into his pockets when he sees you looking around.

“I…ehm…I didn’t do much the last weeks. Except going to work.” He mumbles.

“Don’t worry.” You smile at him. “I kind of like it.”

Stepping over the books, you make your way to the bathroom. You use the toothbrush Spencer gave you after the first night you spend here and brush your teeth, him next to you doing the same.

He follows you into the bedroom, looking away when you start to take your clothes off.

“You can look.” You let out a laugh.

“O-okay.” Spencer turns back around but doesn’t really look at you. Instead, he gets you a shirt you can wear to bed, then he goes to change himself.

Sitting in bed next to him, you notice the distance he still keeps to you.

“Spencer?” You ask when he continues to stare at the wall.

“Yes?” He turns his head to you, eyes nervous, hands fumbling with the blanket.

“I missed you a lot.”

“You did?” His voice shoots up.

You scan his face: “Why are you scared?”

Spencer looks at his hands: “I want to be with you so bad, and when I messed up…I’m scared I will do something wrong again.”

You start to tear up: “Spence…” You take a deep breath: “I was so close to fuck things up that night. I think it would have gone sideways anyway.”

He hears that you’re about to cry and takes your hand: “What do you mean?”

Shaking your head, you squeeze his hand: “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you never meant to hurt me, you just wanted to help…and I did things wrong as well. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Spencer rubs the back of your hand with his thumb and you add: “I also don’t think you cheated your way into being my boyfriend. You’re more than I ever expected to find.”

He raises an eyebrow: “You expected less than this.” He gestures up and down himself.

“I cannot believe you are actually this insecure. Are you fishing for compliments?”

“What? No. I…”

With a swift movement, you push him onto his back and press him into the mattress. Spencer lets out a surprised laugh.

You kiss the side of his neck, down to his collarbone and back up to behind his ear while you murmur: “You’re seriously telling me no one told you before that you’re hot, and sweet, and beautiful, and brilliant?”

“I…” He clears his voice and tries to concentrate while you keep nibbling on his skin. “Morgan always calls me Pretty Boy, but it sounds belittling. And the others…”

“And besides the team?” You lift your head to look at him. Spencer’s cheeks are flushed.

“I don’t really talk to other people.” He admits.

“Hm.” Your eyes dart between his, you feel his chest rising underneath you. Slowly, you lean down to him. His hands fly to your face and he pulls you to his lips.

You sigh and move your lips against his. Spencer is still so careful.

Running your tongue over his lips, you grab his hair. That makes him tilt up his chin and deepen the kiss.

When you prop yourself up on your elbow next to him, your eyes are glazed over, and you cannot stop smiling. It feels so good being this close to him again. Touching him. His hands on you.

“Will you read me something?” Spencer suddenly asks.

Your smile brightens: “What would you like?”

“Anything.”

Nodding, you ask: “Have you read every book you have?”

“No, the ones in the right shelf are new.”

You get out of bed and rummage through said shelf in the living room. Smiling, you take one of your favorite books.

“You never read The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?” You ask while crawling back into bed.

Spencer shakes his head, smiling: “No, I bought it because it made me think of you.”

“How come?”

“It sounds like a comforting story.”

You swallow hard: “And that makes you think of me?”

Spencer looks at the book in your hands: “Yeah…I will never forget how you read to me while I was going through withdrawal.”

You close your eyes thinking about it. It was beautiful, and sad.

Caressing his cheek, you kiss Spencer again. Then you sit up against the headboard and point between your legs: “Come here.”

Spencer looks confused until he understands what you mean. He scoots over and leans against your chest. Putting your arms around him, you kiss the top of his head and open the book.


	24. Wake-Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what a bliss to spend the morning with Spencer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fluff; shameless smut]

You wish you slept well. You wish Spencer falling asleep peacefully between your thighs, rolling off you when you moved to lay down yourself, reaching for your hand and pressing a kiss to it before falling back asleep, you wish it were a magic way to make all the trouble in your mind go away. But it’s not.

Even though you fell asleep quickly, you woke up in the early morning, panicked. You don’t even remember what you dreamed of; What made your heart pound this hard. You just know that you curse yourself, your soul, for being this ungrateful. Spencer was with you. He wants to be with you. He’s gone out of his way to make that clear. And still…

Somehow, you are still convinced that you don’t deserve him. That he is wasting himself on you. He himself said he felt like he _cheated_ his way into becoming your boyfriend. What kind of co-depending bullshit were you two building here? Did you just bond over the trauma of being an addict?

 _Oh, go to hell._ You internally yell at your intrusive thoughts.

It will take time for you to let yourself actually enjoy being with Spencer. Not that you don’t enjoy it in the moment you are with him. You are just forbidding yourself to feel joy at any other time. Too scared that it will all go away. That you will be left with nothing, but all the love you have and no one to give it to.

You decide that while you give yourself the time to adjust being in such a beautiful relationship, you will spend all your energy on making Spencer feel as loved as possible.

Quietly, you get out of bed. You have about an hour before Spencer (and you) will have to get up and ready for work. Quickly, you put on clothes and grab your bag. The crisp air of the morning lets you inhale deeply. Hoping that Spencer will not wake up while you’re gone, you race to the next café and get fresh coffee and breakfast.

Your apartment is as quiet as you left it when you open the door. You take off your shoes and put everything you got on the table, nicely sorting it onto plates. Then you tiptoe back to the bedroom. Spencer seems to be already waking up, face still relaxed but body stirring. He’s spread out on his stomach, head buried in the cushion.

The mattress dents when you sit down next to him. Gently, you push strands of hair out of his face and kiss his cheek. “Spence.” You whisper. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Hmh?” His voice is raspy. Eyes still closed he slowly lifts his arm into your direction. You let your fingers wanders over the back of his hand, tracing each bone.

“Spence, your coffee will get cold.”

His eyes shoot open. It makes you smile.

Spencer rubs his face and lifts his head off the pillow: “When did you get breakfast?”

“Just now.”

Groggily, he looks at you: “You went out and got breakfast for me?”

“Yeah.” You quickly kiss him.

Standing up, you give him space to get out of bed. He swings his legs over the edge and follows you to the living room, wearing just the shirt he slept in and his boxers.

Spencer sits down and stares at the set table. You push his coffee towards him and take a sip of yours. “I thought it was my turn to get coffee in the morning.”

He seems to be properly awake now and smiles at you brightly: “I cannot remember the last time I had actual breakfast like this.”

“Same.” You tell him and grab some food.

“I was thinking,” Spencer says, “maybe we could read a book together every week. We could take turns choosing.”

You put down your cup. His dart over your face, apparently observing your reaction.

“I’d love that.”

After swallowing the next bite of your fruit salad, you propose: “What about movies?”

Spencer props up his head on his hand: “You mean, we should watch some together?”

You nod: “Yeah, we could do it like with the books. Maybe two a week, either of us choosing one. And I’m open to movies of every language, by the way.”

His smile brightens: “Okay.” He nods.

“Studies show that finding this kind of a routines not only helps to put the mind at rest and relax the body, it also will increase the emotional bonding when done with someone else because the psyche will associate the relaxation with that person.” Spencer bombards you with information while you take another sip.

You grin at him: “I’d like some emotional bonding.”

His cheeks flush a little and he stares at his plate.

“Did I fluster you?” You tilt your head; it makes you smile when he gets nervous like that. It’s refreshing that he doesn’t hide his reaction behind a smoke screen of coolness.

Spencer looks back up and stares you down, which makes you shift in your seat in excitement.

“You’re the only one to pick apart my lectures like that.”

“Pick apart?” You furrow your eyebrows.

A smile creeps onto his lips: “You immediately defeat my factual statements by undermining it like this.”

“Like what?” You lean against the table.

Spencer clears his throat: “Flirting. By flirting.”

“You’re still worked up about when I made you think I was about to kiss you in the bullpen after you told me about the statistics of germs transferred during a handshake, aren’t you?”

He lets out a laugh: “That was a power move. I think that was the moment I realized I _really_ like you.”

“Oh?” You look at him surprised. “You liked me before I made you go cold turkey?”

“Of course.”

“Really?!” You ask a little too loud.

Spencer leans against the table as well: “I know we established that I was an asshat before, but I still liked you.”

“That’s a surprise.”

“Should I show you how much I like you now?”

You mouth falls open. You really want to reply something witty but you’re way too entranced by the look in Spencer’s eyes. You just get up from the chair.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer bites his bottom lip and follows you into the bedroom. When you turn around, his hands clasp your face, and he presses his lips against yours. They still taste of coffee. Grabbing the back of his neck, you lean into him. Spencer bites you lip and grips your hair. You moan at the sensation, making him push you towards the bed.

A little out of breath, you crawl onto it backwards. Quickly, Spencer follows you and reaches for the hem of your sweatpants, pulling them down. Your breathing hitches when you see the bulge in his boxers.

“Getting fresh coffee really made you horny, huh?” You smirk while helping him to take off his shirt.

Spencer pushes you back into the mattress and puts his weight on you. “I’d say it were ninety percent you and ten percent the coffee.” He murmurs.

“So, I’m nine times as hot as hot coffee?”

“Oh, shut up.” Spencer chuckles against your lips.

Just when you slither your hand into Spencer’s boxers, you alarm goes off. “Shit.” You wiggle out of his grasp and roll over to turn it off. Turning back to him, you tell him: “We have like half an hour.”

“The average time for women to reach their orgasm is thirteen minutes and twenty-five seconds.” Spencer tells you. You grin at him: “Does that mean you plan on making me cum 2.2 times?”

“See! You’re doing it again!” Spencer yells at you amused.

You grab his arm and pull him onto you, snaking your leg around his hips to grind him against your crotch. “What am I doing again?” You innocently flutter your eyes at him, trying to suppress a shit-eating grin.

His eyes narrow while they dart over you face. Taking his hand, you keep up the eye contact. While giving him doe-eyes, you push his ring and middle finger into your mouth. When you suck on them, you feel Spencer’s dick twitch between your thighs.

You graze your teeth over them gently while pulling them out again. As soon as they leave your mouth, Spencer leans down to kiss your wet lips, pushing his equally wet fingers into your briefs. You moan into his mouth when his fingers reach their destination.

Spencer runs them up and down between your folds, making you squirm beneath him. When he dips his middle finger into you, just barely past the entrance and runs his thumb over your clit, your head falls back.

He attacks your exposed neck with kisses, leaving a wet trail down to your collarbone. When he feels you increasingly getting wet, he pushes his finger further into you, curling it upwards. Burying both hands in his hair, you pull his head up to your face again. He groans at the feeling of his hair being tucked and basically swallows you whole with his lips.

Soon, your arousal is overwhelming. You push his hand away from your core. “Is something wrong?” Spencer immediately asks you. “Yeah, something’s wrong.” You nod, making his face contort in concern. With your mouth right next to his ears, you whisper: “Your dick is not inside me.”

Spencer lets out a mixture of a cough and a groan. You flip him over, you now straddling his lap. With a swift movement, you get rid of your shirt and bra. Spencer’s eyes wander over your chest, but before he can even take a breath, you roll onto your back again.

After taking off your underwear, you turn your head to look at a very flustered but also visibly aroused Spencer. When he doesn’t move, you say: “Please, fuck me, Spencer.” His eyes widen: “Fuck, Emily.” Him cursing only turns you on more.

He makes quick work of his boxers and crawls onto you. You guide him to your entrance. Spencer is propped up on his forearms left and right of your head, looking down on you. You kiss him again and put your hands on his firm ass and push him forward, all the way into you. Both of you moan in sync. His dick stretches you, filling you up completely.

Slowly, Spencer starts to move back and forth, looking all stern and concentrated. You run your fingers through his hair and cradle his face with your hands. Calculated, you contract your muscles around his cock. “Oh!” Spencer breathes out. You smile and kiss him. “Do that again.” He tells you and you do. “Holy shit, that’s so fucking tight…you…dear god…”

You moan at his voice and instruct him: “Now roll your hips.” Spencer starts to do as told. At first, it’s a little uncoordinated, but then he finds a steady rhythm. Your eyes fall shut as warmth spreads from your core to your thighs and stomach.

Your hands wander over his naked body, feeling the small scars he got from the job, the muscles moving between his shoulder blades, the smooth skin of his sides. When he starts to speed up his movements, you push your hand down to stimulate your clit. You feel the wetness spread from between your legs all over his pelvis and your sensitive pussy.

Moaning at the added stimulation, you contract around his dick again. “Emily, if you keep doing that…” Spencer stutters. Your eyes shoot open and you look at his face, cheeks red form the strenuous activity, sweat glistering on his forehead.

You relax around him while speeding up the movements on your clit. “Can you go harder?” You ask, opening your legs further. Spencer starts to move his hips more forceful. However, still too gently in your opinion. “I won’t break.” You assure him like when he ate you out.

Now he really starts to slam against you, pounding into you as far as he can. “Oh, fuck.” You moan. His thick dick stretches you every time he pulls almost completely out of you to and jerks his hips forwards again. When Spencer starts to roll his hips again, the pleasure overwhelms you. He hits your g-spot, and you pick up the speed on your clit again.

Since you cannot see properly anymore anyways, you close your eyes and completely indulge in the sensation. You can feel your orgasm linger, ready to powerfully explode. Feeling Spencer’s hips stutter pushes you even closer to the edge.

You grab the back of his neck and put your arm around him to press him against your chest. It creates friction and stimulates your nipples. Your walls start to spasm and you tighten around him. Spencer lets out a string of curses and moans your name.

Your voice shoots up when you groan and moan and finally reach that sweet, sweet release. You roll your hips against him to prolong your orgasm. You can barely hear anything, but Spencer’s obscenely loud moans get registered by your brain. He keeps moving a little longer before he collapses onto your chest.

Breathing heavily, you both lay there in silence, Spencer still inside of you. Aftershocks of your orgasm make your legs twitch a few times. You start to kiss his shoulder while drawing circles on his head, entangling your fingers with his hair.

Slowly, Spencer gets back up and pulls out of you. Closing your eyes, you enjoy the silence and the rest of the euphoria inside of you.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

After you freshened up and put on the underwear from your to-go bag, you sit back down in bed next to Spencer. His face is still a little red. You lean down to kiss his swollen lips, then you whisper: “We need to go to work.”

He shakes his head: “I will never leave this room again, especially with you in here as well.” You chuckle: “I gather you liked it?”

Spencer lifts his head: “That’s a rhetorical question, isn’t it?”

“Just wanted to make sure.” You grin and give him a peck on the lips. “Now get up, Lover Boy.”


	25. An Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A case involving a Swedish victim causes you to call an old friend. Spencer wants to tell you something. But also doesn't want to tell you something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [canon-typical-violence; fluff]
> 
> Cross-Over with the character Saga Norén of the Swedish/Danish show The Bridge, which I highly recommend!

„Morning everyone.“ Hotchner greets you at the round table. “We are called on a case here in Washington D.C. A Swedish tourist has been found dead in their hotel this morning. No passport. The clerk only new that they are Swedish because they told him at the check-in.”

You are skimming through the file. It’s not much.

“Has the Swedish Embassy been informed?” JJ asks.

Hotchner nods: “Yes. But they cannot do anything until we actually proof that they are Swedish.”

You look at him: “So, we have to treat it like a normal homicide until we find a passport or anything like that?”

“Yes.” Hotchner replies briskly.

Spencer looks up from the file: “Has there been another case like that in recent times?”

“Garcia is looking into it.” Rossi chimes in.

“JJ, talk to the embassy again and try to find out any information they can give us. Morgan, help Garcia narrowing down possible cases that are connected to this one. You have to go nationwide. Rossi and Reid, interview everyone you can find in the hotel, ask the police for help; also check out the security footage. Byrne is with me; we take a look at the crime scene.” Hotchner orders.

Everyone nods and gets up, gathering their stuff. Spencer and you still look a little dazed from your morning intermezzo. You squeeze his thigh before you get up from your chair. He gives you a sweet smile and nods at you.

In the elevator, you ask Hotchner: “Is the body still at the crime scene?”

“Yes. I told them to wait for us.”

“Hmh.” Your thoughts wander, you try to make sense of the case. Why is there no passport? Can we be sure that they are Swedish? And so on.

You don’t talk to Hotchner on the way to the hotel. Tapping your fingers on your thigh, you stare out the window. Hotchner breathes in a few times like he wants to start talking but stays quiet.

The police let you into the room after you flashed your badges. Gloved up, you look around. The body lays in the doorway of the bathroom. The room is moderately messy but not enough to look like there has been a fight.

“Cause of death?” You ask the only remaining crime scene technician. She shrugs her shoulders: “Not sure yet. Looks like asphyxiation but you have to wait on the coroner’s report.”

“Thanks.” You nod.

When you turn around, Hotchner is scanning the room, but apparently mostly observing you. You’ve been with him for like twenty minutes and he already annoys you without even properly talking to you. Is he testing you again?

Sighing quietly, you kneel down next to the body. “Caucasian male, probably between thirty and forty.” You observe, mostly saying it to yourself. Checking out the parts of the body that you can see without removing clothes, you note: “No visible trauma.” You lift the arms: “Scratches on the sides of both hands.” Turning your attention to the head, you add: “No signs of strangulation.” You bow down closely to the face: “He suffocated.”

When you stand back up, Hotchner is right next to you, simply nodding at your observations. You step over the body and into the bathroom to look around. No windows. Closing the door, you notice the small splashes of blood on it. “Hotchner?” You open the door again. He enters the room. Pointing at the blood you found, you search for a vent.

In the corner of the right wall, you see a small grid. You look up at it and back at Hotchner. He tilts his head, obviously not understanding what you are getting at. Pulling out the small knife you have strapped to your ankle, you ask: “Give me a hand?”

Hesitantly, Hotchner walks over.

He leans against the wall, so that you can step on his thighs. Hotchner even holds your legs while you are standing on him. It’s kind of amusing. Quickly, you unscrew the vent with your knife.

You grab the small contraption you find behind it and get back down. Hotchner looks at it and back at you. “The unsub gassed him.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Back at Quantico the team exchanges information.

“Thanks to Byrne, we can considerably narrow down open cases that have a similar MO.” Morgan says and smiles at you. “Garcia and I will get back at it.” Hotchner nods and Morgan leaves.

“We still don’t have an ID.” JJ tells you. Reid and Rossi tell you about their findings, which, again, aren’t many. Sighing, you lean back in your chair.

Then you remember something: “I have a contact in Malmö. Maybe she can help us.”

“It’s worth a shot.” Spencer supports your proposal.

“Okay.” Hotchner nods.

“What time is it there now?” JJ asks.

“Plus six hours to our time. So 8 p.m.” Spencer informs her.

You get out your phone and put it on speaker.

“Saga Norén, Länskrim Malmö.” A woman answers after the first ring.

You smile: “Hej, Saga. Det här är Emily Byrne.”

“Åh hej.”

“Arbetar du?” You ask.

“Ja.” Saga’s answers are as short as ever.

“Jag ringer från Quantico. Mina kollegor talar inte svenska. Kan vi prata engelska?”

“Okay.”

“There has been a homicide here in D.C. Likely a Swedish tourist. We don’t have an ID. Would you look into it?”

“Yes. I will send you a message.”

“Thank you!”

“Bye.” Saga says before she hangs up.

Smiling, you send her the file before you put your phone away. When you look back up, everyone is staring at you.

“What?” Your eyes dart around. Spencer is smiling, the others look flabbergasted.

JJ asks: “You speak Swedish?”

“Barely.” You tell her.

Spencer lets out a laugh.

Hotchner apparently didn’t like that he could not understand half of the conversation because he asks: “What did you say to her before you switched to English?”

Your jaw clenches. This man really has not a shred of appreciation in him.

Dryly, you repeat the conversation:

“Saga Norén, State Office of Criminal Investigation Malmö.

Hey, Saga. It’s Emily Byrne.

Ah, hi.

Are you working?

Yes.

I’m calling from Quantico. My colleagues don’t speak Swedish. Can we talk in English?”

You stare Hotchner down the whole time you are talking. Eventually, he says: “Good.”

_Oh, fuck off._

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Yawning loudly, you try to focus on the surveillance footage. There are so many cameras…Spencer is sitting next to you, also going through the footage. When you both pause for a moment to relax your eyes, he asks: “When did you learn to speak Swedish?”

You turn in your chair. You’re alone in a small office with a lot of screens.

Spencer grabs your hand as soon as you look at him. It sends a small electric shock through your body. You smile brightly and tell him: “A few years ago when I worked a case at the DEA that involved a Swedish dealer. I met Saga and picked up on basic stuff.”

“A few years ago? How are you still in contact?” Spencer leans a little closer, showing the face he makes when he listens intently.

“I’m apparently the only one she knows that’s as smart as her – in her opinion. She sometimes sends me cases to look at. She also…” You clear your voice. “Saga tried to help me with my case. She actually found out more than anyone else, but it still wasn’t enough.”

“Why did you never tell me about her?” Spencer’s voice is calm, not accusatory.

“I try to avoid anything that’s close to my case. But if you want to know more, we can talk about it later.”

He nods: “If that’s okay, I’d like to hear more.”

You kiss his cheek and turn back to the screen.

Only when someone opens the door, you realize that you are still holding Spencer’s hand. You quickly let go of each other. It’s Morgan.

“Hotchner called it a day.” He declares.

“Fucking finally.” You mumble and get up.

“Hey, Byrne.” Morgan stops you when you walk past him. You turn around, Spencer next to you. “I heard you know a Swedish girl. Would you introduce us?” He gives you a grin.

You let out a laugh: “She would chew you up and spit you out.” 

“I like a challenge.” He persists.

Rolling your eyes, you tell him: “Not a chance, Morgan. Way out of your league.”

He wants to protest, but Spencer saves you from further discussion: “Can we go? I’d like to get something to eat.”

You throw Morgan a peace sign and head to the elevator.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“I want a clean and easy arrest.” Hotchner loudly tells everyone. “We don’t want to cause a diplomatic incident.”

You turn away for a moment to roll your eyes. Like he has to tell you that.

After Hotchner assigned the tasks, Spencer and you once again go around the back. “Watch out for glass daggers.” You whisper. “Watch your shoulder.” Spencer shoots back. That coaxes a quiet giggle out of you.

As soon as Hotchner gives the go, you break down the back door and scan the house. Spencer is right behind you, one hand on your shoulder to let you know he’s there. Together, you make your way through what looks like a boujee library slash living room. 

You hear someone next doors. You don’t say anything but tap Spencer’s hand on your shoulder and nod towards the door. He lets go of you to walk to the other side of the door frame. When he nods at you, you push the door open and yell your law enforcement catchphrase.

Someone immediately lunges at you, throwing you against the wall, violently pressing the air out of your lunges. You vision goes a little blurry, but you manage to fight them off. You hear Spencer next to you, apparently struggling with someone else. Kicking the man that attacked you, you get him off you for a moment. Spencer is on the floor, shielding his face. His gun is nowhere to be seen. You jump at the man hitting him. The attacker lets out a choking sound when you throw your arms around his neck, locking him against you with your legs, dragging him off Spencer.

The small victory gets overshadowed when you take a hard blow to the head and your vision goes black for a second. You hear the men shout and dash out the room. “Em!” Spencer’s face hovers above you. Your head hurts and you barely manage to sit up.

You give Spencer a peck on the lips and hand him your gun: “Go give them hell.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Both of you are holding an icepack against you head, sitting on Spencer’s couch.

“We should get beat up more often, if that means we both get a day off.” You groan but also smile a little.

Spencer raises his head: “It sucks because neither of us can read to the other.”

You chuckle: “Have you ever tried audio books?”

“Yeah. They are infuriatingly slow.” He scoffs.

“What about quietly laying in bed?” You offer.

“Sounds great.” Spencer gets up and offers you his hand.

Groaning, you take it and follow him. 

You lay there in silence while you are playing with Spencer’s hair. He lets out an appreciative hum now and then and draws circles on your thigh with his fingers.

Suddenly, you have to think of something: “Spencer?”

He opens his eyes: “Yeah?”

“Do you remember what you said when you fell asleep in my bed? The first night of your withdrawal?”

He furrows his eyebrows: “What do you mean?”

“After you puked your soul out in my bathroom, I put you to bed and you mumbled something unintelligible just before you fell asleep.”

Spencer’s eyes dart over your face and you see the moment he remembers. His cheeks flush: “I- I’m not sure. It was probably something delirious.”

Narrowing your eyes, you scoot closer to him: “But you remember?”

Slowly, he nods.

“Will you tell me?” You caress his cheek.

“I…” He clears his voice. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You lean back to be able to have a better look at his face.

Spencer nervously rubs the blanket. You see in his eyes that he actually wants to tell you. He is just nervous about how you will react. Which is weird. What on earth could he have said in that fucked-up condition all these months ago?

“Okay.” You eventually say. “Maybe you tell me when you think it’s a good idea?”

Spencer pulls you closer: “I will.”


	26. An Old Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing you handeling a body re-opens Spencer's wounds that Prentiss' death left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [canon-typical-violence; fluff; smut]

It’s a sunny morning. Spencer and you decided to get up early and drive to the café you frequent. You leave your car parked and pay the parking meter for the whole day. Your bags over the shoulder, you walk to the BAU. Spencer grabs your hand, making you smile. For a while, you just walk in silence, enjoying the weather and your coffee. Eventually, you say: “I decided what book we will read next.”

Spencer turns head towards you: “Oh, yeah. It’s your turn. What do you want to read?”

“The Silence of the Lambs.”

He lets out a chuckle: “Do you want to proof-read it for inaccuracies about the BAU?”

You let go of his hand to pinch his upper arm.

“Hey!”

Laughing, you answer: “I want to read it because it’s a great book and a great movie, thank you very much.”

“Fine.” Spencer rubs the spot you pinched.

“Oh, come on. it wasn’t that hard.”

He throws away his empty cup and yanks you towards him: “I’ll show you hard.”

“Oh, yeah?” You grin, your face mere inches from his.

Instead of answering, Spencer grabs your face and pulls you against him.

Holding on to your cup, you put your arm around him, your lips meeting his. They taste of coffee, just like yours. Spencer holds on to you until you both have to take a breath.

Arms around each other, you walk the rest of the way to the Bureau.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

„Do you think the team suspects anything?” Spencer asks you in the elevator.

“About us?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think so. Hotchner got over his suspicion pretty quickly. They know you have a girlfriend. But I doubt they think it’s me. We also have been getting away with it for a few months now…”

“Why shouldn’t they think you’re my girlfriend?”

“People usually don’t expect me to be in a relationship. Especially with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“Sweet. Caring. Non-violent.”

“And why don’t they think you are ever in a relationship?”

You shrug your shoulders: “I seem to give off the vibe of someone who isn’t capable of that.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know.” You smile at him and Spencer squeezes your hand before the doors open.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“After we land, Byrne and Reid drive to the medical examiner. Take a closer look at the bodies. Morgan, Rossi, JJ, each of you talk to one of the families. I will set up everything at the police station.”

“Okay.” You nod and look back at the files, going over the preliminary medical reports. Since it’s a small town in Ohio, there is only one coroner, and they aren’t equipped to look at three bodies that quickly. All three bodies were found two days ago in a field. No IDs, no clothes, no tattoos, no anything. Just death.

While the medical examiner hands you gloves and a face mask, Spencer shakes his head. He keeps his distance to the bodies and stands behind you. The coroner basically repeated what was already in the reports and you asked him to let you have a look at the corpses.

He goes to sit at his desk at the other end of the room. You turn to Spencer and whisper, pointing at the bodies: “You don’t like this, do you?”

He just shakes his head. You nod and start to examine the first body. Running your hands around the wounds, pulling apart the flesh to see how deep the cuts run, taking a closer look at the hands, the feet, and the face. All the women have about shoulder long hair. Carefully, you run your fingers through it.

You feel something sharp and pull your hand away. Luckily, it didn’t cut you.

“What is it?” Spencer asks worried.

“There’s something in her hair.”

Reluctantly, Spencer steps closer: “Should I help you?”

You look at him for a moment: “I got it.”

Leaning back down, you grab the back of neck of the woman and lift her head. You press it against your chest so that you can have a better look at her hair. Going through it, you absentmindedly rock back and forth as if to comfort the dead woman. Finally, you find what you were looking for: small pieces of glass, sticking in the back of her head.

“Hand me the tweezers?” You hold out your hand until you feel Spencer giving them to you. The pieces of glass make a clattering sound when they fall onto the autopsy table.

When you lean back up, Spencer is already offering you a small evidence bag.

After you examined the other bodies and found similar pieces of glass in their heads, you tell the coroner to send everything to the FBI lab in Quantico. That way you should have an analysis by tomorrow.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

While you think about what you observed on the bodies, Spencer is sitting quietly next to you. When you pull up in front of the police station, you ask: “Are you scared of corpses?”

Spencer clears his voice: “I’m simply not very fond of being around them.”

You turn off the engine but stay seated to look at him: “Problematic in this line of work, isn’t it?”

He rubs his hands over his thighs: “I told you before: You’re the only one on this team who is _that_ comfortable around bodies.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You…I don’t know. We all have a criminology background, not a medical. Neither have you. It’s unusual for a profiler to be like…well, like you.”

You let out a laugh: “Is that a compliment?”

“I think so.”

You see that Spencer wants to add something, but you have to go back to work.

“The cuts aren’t that deep. They weren’t supposed to kill them, but to inflict pain.” You point at the pictures you took of the wounds and put up on the board.

“Can you define _not that deep_?” Hotchner asks.

You lift your hand and point at your index finger: “I could only fit the tip of my finger. We will get the exact measurements from the coroner, probably by tomorrow.”

“You put your finger in the wounds?” Rossi asks stunned.

You turn to him: “Hotchner said to take a closer look. That was a close as I could get without doing the actual autopsy.”

Morgan chuckles, Spencer bites the insides of his cheeks to not burst out in laughter, JJ and Hotchner shake their heads.

You put up the pictures of the glass: “All three woman had this stuck in the back of their head. It’s glass and already on the way to Quantico to be analyzed.”

“I’m guessing, you found that as well?” Morgan asks.

“Yeah, she did.” Spencer answers, sounding proud.

You quickly turn to look at the board so that the others won’t see your slightly flushed cheeks.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Emily?” Spencer knocks on the door of your hotel room.

You get up from the table with the files and open the door: “Hey.”

“I know we said we won’t see each other like this during cases, but can I come in?” He whispers.

“Okay.” You step aside.

Spencer stands in the middle of your room, even after you closed the door.

“Are you alright?” Even though you two are alone, you hesitate to touch him like you usually touch your boyfriend.

“Yeah, it’s just…” He rubs his face.

You point to the bed: “Sit with me.”

Leaning against him, you ask: “What’s going on?”

“Since I saw you at the morgue, with the body I mean, I had a recurring dream.”

“Oh.” You fully turn around and pull your legs up onto the bed. “What about?”

“The way you held her…”

You exhale loudly but wait for him to continue.

“It looked like you wanted to calm her down. It seemed so intimate. And I had dreams about you being the body and me holding you, about you holding Prentiss, me holding her.”

You stay quiet and think about it.

Eventually, you scoot further onto the bed, already wearing your sweatpants and a sleep shirt. Spencer strips down to his underwear and follows you. Holding him in your arms, you caress his cheek and let your fingers wander through his hair.

“I think, it’s because you never got to hold Prentiss. To say goodbye. To make sure she knows how much you care for her.” You tell him after a few minutes.

Spencer inhales sharply. You tighten your hold on him, pressing your cheek against the top of his head. He grabs your upper arm and holds onto you while his breathing hitches. You feel his tears drop on your neck and running down to your collarbones. You feel the immense pain radiating off of him. Tears start to fill your own eyes. Your heart aches and you try to make him feel as safe as possible.

You hold him tightly while he sobs in your arms. Occasionally, kissing his head and running your hand over his back.

You don’t have any tissues, so when Spencer lifts his head, somewhat calmer, you take off your shirt and wipe his face with it. His eyes are swollen, and his cheeks are red from the salty tears running over them.

“Do you want to sleep here?” You ask him, littering his face with kisses.

“It could get us in trouble.”

“I don’t care. You’re in pain and I will not let you be alone with it.”

“Thank you.” Spencer kisses you while holding the back of your neck.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The evening you arrest the unsub, Hotchner decides that it’s too late to fly home now. The team meets at the hotel bar for a drink. You’re less tired than you expected and actually enjoy it this time.

Before you met the others, you put on some fresh clothes and even your hair up properly. Apparently, it’s Spencer’s weak spot, because he keeps shooting you looks from across the table. You wink at him at one point, making him bite his lips.

When you call it a night and go to leave, Spencer gets up as well. Maybe not the most low-key move, but it’s too late now. Rossi saves you by also leaving.

Fortunately, your room is on a different floor than the other’s. It makes it easier for Spencer to sneak into it. To hell with not seeing each other like this during cases.

You lock the door and push him towards the bed. He scrambles to take his clothes off while you strip down as well. Neither of you say a word while crawling into the sheets. You are straddling Spencer’s lap and bow down to kiss him.

His already hard dick twitches against your core when you roughly grab his hair.

Your way too turned on to do this any longer. Whispering, you ask: “Can we skip the foreplay today?”

Spencer groans and flips you over. He lines himself up with your entrance and looks you in the eyes while pushing himself into you. Letting out a low moan, you angle your hips upwards to allow him to push as deep inside of you as possible. By now, he is able to roll his hips to perfection, knowing exactly how to move. In return, you contract your muscles around him rhythmically.

Usually, you two take your time with each other. But you also figured out how to make each other cum within minutes if you feel like it. Spencer puts one hand around your neck without applying much pressure. The sensation turns you on more than you ever expected, so he does it now and then since you two found out.

Your left hand wanders down between your legs to stimulate your clit. It makes your eyes roll back and they flutter shut. Spencer slows down a little and you both take a few deep breaths. Blindly, you find his neck and pull him down. He feverishly kisses your lips, then he leans his forehead against your shoulder while picking up in speed again.

For some reason, the thought of fucking Spencer above the rooms of your colleagues turns you on even more and you let out a moan against Spencer’s skin. He’s panting right next to your head and you hear him swallow hard when you lift your legs to put them around his hips.

His movements get sloppy and you know he’s just as close as you are. Roughly, you keep rubbing your clit until your walls tighten and your body tenses. “Spencer.” You breathe out. “I- I’m gonna…”

He moans into your ear and slams into you as hard as he can. “Fuck, Em…” Spencer curses with a husky voice.

You lift your hips to create maximum friction between his pelvis and your clit, finally sending you over the edge. You tightening around him makes Spencer curse loudly again and you feel his body stiffen while he cums.

His movements halter and your hips fall back into the mattress. Breathing heavily, Spencer pulls out of you, but keeps laying on your chest. Your eyes are still closed and your mind a little clouded. Running your hand over Spencer’s back, you slowly come down from your high.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

It’s 7 p.m. the next day when your phone vibrates, showing Garcia’s name on the screen. You show it Spencer who furrows his eyebrows. You’re currently in his apartment, reading The Silence of the Lambs.

“Hey, Pen. What’s up?”

“You need to come in as fast as possible!!”

“What’s going on?” You hear the panic in her voice and get up.

Spencer shoots you a worried look.

Penelope tells you and you gulp.

After you hang up, you stand there in silence for a few seconds.

“Em, what happened?” He gets up as well.

You look at him, not knowing how to phrase it. He’s going to be upset anyways.

You clear your voice: “Morgan got a tip.” Pausing, you grab Spencer’s upper arm.

“He arrested Ian Doyle.”


	27. Slow Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and Doyle clash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [canon-typical-drama; somewhat fluff; excessive smut, idk whats wrong with me]
> 
> Quick reminder that I'm bending the timeline/ re-writing the canon.

With screeching tires, you arrive in front of the Bureau. Spencer jumps out of the car before you turned the engine off. Jogging, you catch up to him. He violently keeps pressing the button of the elevator. Eventually, you take his hand and push it away from the button.

You feel the stress exuding out of every of Spencer’s pores. You want to comfort him, but you know that he cannot calm down. He needs to be angry right now. So, you just quietly stand next to him.

When you enter the bullpen, everyone else is running around just as stressed out. You throw your stuff on your desk and look around. “Where is he?” Spencer yells when Morgan enters the room.

“Interrogation. Hotch and JJ are talking to him.”

Immediately, Spencer takes off in the direction of the interrogation rooms. You want to ask Morgan how he found Doyle but looking after Spencer is more important now. You’re angry at Doyle. Maybe not the way or for the same reason the rest of the team hates him, but because what he put Spencer through.

Turning the corner, you see Spencer storming into the room you assume they are talking to Doyle in. You hear yelling coming out of the room immediately. When you get to the door, you see Hotchner and JJ trying to get Spencer to leave while he is berating Doyle.

“Reid!” Hotchner yells repeatedly but Spencer doesn’t react. Doyle has a smug look on his face, not really fazed by what Spencer is shouting at him or how dangerously close he is to hitting him. Before the situation can escalate even further, you step into the room, earning angry looks by Hotchner who seemingly isn’t a believer of _the more the merrier._

You grab Spencer’s elbow and yank him away from Doyle. When he tries to get rid of your grasp, he rams his elbow into your rips. You let out a groan which makes Spencer halt in his movements abruptly. He whips around and looks at you wide-eyed. The room falls dead silent.

That is, until Doyle asks: “Are you the one they replaced poor Emily with?” You don’t bat him an eye, you just look at Spencer. Slowly, you step between him and Doyle. “Let’s go.”

Spencer blinks and eventually walks out the room, you trailing behind him. While you close the door, you take the time to flip Doyle off.

Spencer is breathing heavily, leaning against the wall a few feet down the hallway. You go to stand in front of him and clasp his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek before making him rest his head on your shoulder. He immediately puts his arms around you, crying quietly. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair.

Caressing the back of his neck, you tell him: “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

You hold on to Spencer, even when Morgan walks up to you. He observes you, a sad look in his eyes as well, but doesn’t say anything. After he closed the door to the observation room behind him, you say to Spencer: “Come on.”

Holding his hand, you walk to the vending machine to get something cold to drink. He gives you a thankful smile when you hand him a coke. After promising you that he won’t flip out again, you walk back to the interrogation to observe the interview.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“He admitted to killing Prentiss and every charge we have against him concerning this team. Nothing else.” Hotchner summarizes the interrogation.

Everyone looks disheveled, and overwhelmed. This all happened in the span of a few hours. You’re the first one to ask the question everyone else has but doesn’t say out loud: “Why would he do that?”

“Probably to taunt us.” Rossi states.

“Couldn’t he have done that in a million other ways? And why now?” You look around. The others are staring at the round table. No one answers your questions.

Hotchner is the first one to collect himself: “I will have him transferred to maximum security holding. Tomorrow we call the DA and start to prepare for trial. We won’t take on other cases until this is done.”

He gets up and adds: “I know it’s a lot but go home. Try to rest. We cannot make any mistakes.”

Slowly, everyone starts to leave. Spencer, however, doesn’t move. You lean over: “Do you want to escort Doyle’s transport?”

His head shoots up and for a moment you see something in his eyes that isn’t anger or sadness. He nods.

You put on your bulletproof vests and FBI jackets and throw your bags in the trunk of your car. The Marshals are already outside, guiding Doyle to the transporter. You hand Spencer the keys to your car. He looks confused but takes them. You squeeze his hand and walk over to the Marshals.

Showing them your badge, you grab Doyle and manhandle him into the transporter. The Marshals chain him to the bench and sit down on either side of him. Hearing Spencer start your car, you forcefully shut the backdoors.

You take the seat on the other side of the transporter, in front of Doyle. Somehow, he is still calm and doesn’t look one bit mad about the fact that he is in FBI custody. Surely, he wanted to be captured.

Doyle keeps staring at you, eyeing you up and down. You unholster your gun and take the safety off, making the Marshals shooting you nervous looks.

“What brings you to us this lovely evening?” You ask Doyle stickily sweet.

He chuckles: “You’re not going to shoot me.”

“What makes you say that?” You picked up on the self-assurance in his voice. It’s not just the fact that he thinks an Agent won’t shoot him under these circumstances.

“Ah, very good, Agent Byrne.” Doyle smiles. “I see, you quickly developed your profiling skills.” You narrow your eyes. You don’t like the way he said that.

“So?”

“You’ll see.” He nods and closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall like he’s about to take a nap.

You’d very much like to shoot his kneecaps but that won’t be of any help in the trial.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer and you wait outside until you see Doyle being processed and led away to his cell. The only audible sound on the way back to your car is the pebbles on the ground of the parking lot crunching under your shoes.

You stare out of the windshield, eyes darting over the building in front of you.

“Something is going on.” You shake your head.

“You don’t think it was a coincidence? “

You take out your phone and dial Garcia’s number.

“Hey, Penelope. Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you, mommy-longlegs.”

That actually makes you laugh.

“Please find out everything you can about the tip Morgan got. Voice analysis. Origin of the call. Anything.”

“Of course. I’ll be done by the morning.”

“Thanks.” You hang up.

Spencer puts his hand on your thigh and squeezes it lightly, making your leg twitch. You turn in your seat to look at him.

“Have I told you before how hot you are?”

You cough: “What?”

“Wouldn’t I have been so agitated I had been hard since you pushed Doyle around.” He explains dryly.

“ _That_ turned you on?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I think you’re a little confused right know, which is understandable.”

His hand wanders up to your crotch. You inhale sharply when he presses his fingers against your core.

“Jeez, Spencer.” Your head falls back against the headrest. “This is the weirdest place and time to be horny.”

“Actually, emotional distress can often lead to sexual desire as a way of processing the stress.”

You let out a laugh while Spencer keeps palming your crotch: “I gather you’d like to process some stress right now?”

His thumb finds where your clit is beneath the fabric of your jeans and panties.

“Should I stop?”

_Well, thank the inventor of tinted windows, cause you really need them right now._ You shake your head. “Hmh.” Spencer murmurs. You curse and lock the doors, climbing over the console into the backseat. Spencer follows you, having some problems coordinating his legs and arms.

As soon as he makes it over, he basically lunges at you. When he pushes you into the backseat, laying on top of you, you feel his boner pressing against your thigh. “You weren’t joking about that sexual desire, weren’t you?” You mumble while running your fingers through his hair.

Spences bites the side of you neck: “You should know by now that I don’t joke.”

Instead of answering, you grab his dick through his cord pants, coaxing a moan out of him. Spencer lifts his head to press a wet kiss onto your lips. You sigh into his mouth and move your hips to rub your core against his thigh.

For a few minutes, you dry hump each other while making out. You feel wetness pool between you legs. “Sit up.” You tell Spencer. He crawls off of you so that you can take your legs off the seat. You press him into the seat, kissing down his neck while unbuckling his belt. Quickly, he lifts his hips so that you can pull down his pants. His dick springs free and you grab it immediately. Spencer lets out a hum, hands holding on to the edge of the seat.

You start to stroke his cock, feeling the effect you have on him. His thighs tense and he swallows hard. Forgotten are Doyle, the tears from earlier. You press yourself against him to kiss him again, before looking down at his erect dick.

With a smug look on your face, you bow down a little and spit on it. You hear his reaction before you even start to rub the spit over his dick: “Oh god, Emily, fuck.” Spencer cursing still holds an unbelievable power over you and you open the buttons of your jeans with one hand while taking his cock into your mouth.

You barely can concentrate on what you are doing to him because your hand finds its way into your pants and starts to draw circles over your clit. It makes you hum around his cock, sending shivers down Spencer’s spine. You quickly bob your head up and down. Spencer moans and writhers under your touch. In a moment of clarity, however, he notices what you are doing to yourself.

“Are you getting yourself off on sucking my dick?” He sounds half turned on, half amazed. You let go of his dick and lift your head. The look in your eyes is apparently enough of an answer because Spencer lets out a groan before grabbing you and pulling you onto his lap. Kneeling left and right of it, you drag your core over his wet cock a few times.

“Do you want me to fuck you right here? On the backseat of my car. Parked in front of a fucking prison.” You ask while grabbing his neck with both of your hands, dragging your thumb over his lips. Spencer frantically nods.

“I can’t hear you.” You tighten your grip around his neck, feeling him gulp.

“God, yes. Please.” He breathes out.

You smile and kiss him before letting go of his neck to grab his cock and line it up with your entrance. When you jerkily sink down on him, you both let out a loud moan, almost yelling. Spencer’s hands fly to your waist, holding you tightly. After adjusting to his size for a few seconds, you start to forcefully roll your hips, making you smash your hand against the headrest in pleasure.

Spencer’s head falls forwards, resting against your chest. You hold yourself up by grabbing the back of his neck with one hand. You keep rolling your hips, bouncing up and down a few times, until there is sweat on your forehead and the windows in the back start to fog up a little. You feel your orgasm slowly rising. With your left hand, you take Spencer’s and push it towards your core. He understands and starts to rub your clit, making you press your thighs against his tightly.

Spencer lifts his head and looks up at you with puppy eyes, pupils blown wide. You lean down and hastily press a kiss onto his lips. “Em, I-I can’t…much longer.” He stutters.

You bite your bottom lip and stare into is pretty eyes. His red cheeks and the expression on his face make you moan. You speed up your movements, so does Spencer on your clit.

Grabbing the top of the backseat, you lean down close to Spencer’s face until your feel his hot breath on yours. You start to tighten around him. The stimulation becoming almost unbearable. Clawing into the leather, you moan again, your movements getting sloppy and irregular.

Spencer lets out another moan and starts to spasm beneath you. His rough voice and the string of curses he lets out push you over the edge. Inhaling deeply before letting out a high-pitched moan, you cum hard. Your head droops down, coming to a rest on Spencer’s shoulder. He lets go of your clit while you still roll your hips, clenching around him.

Slowly, you stop your movements, your walls still spasming, Spencer tense and stiff under you. Your thighs tremble, feeling sore from the strenuous activity. You feel the sweat under your shirt. Your face radiating heat.

Spencer’s body relaxes and he lets out a sigh. He lifts his head, his eyes glazed over he looks up at you and lifts his hand to push the hair out of your face. You smile and hold his hand against your cheek before kissing the back of his hand, feeling the bones under his skin.

After you lifted yourself off him, you pull your pants up and sit down next to him. Spencer puts his clothes back in order as well and leans over to kiss you. You ruffle through his hair and tell him: “You’ll have to drive. There is no way my legs are capable of that right now.”


	28. Lacerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the others prepare for the lawsuit against Doyle, you follow another lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [canon-typical-drama; canon-typical-violence; a little fluff]
> 
> TW: description of blood/bleeding, being injured/harmed  
> Plot-heavy chapter.

Probably the only reason that Spencer and you were able to sleep last night, was the exhaustion after fucking in front of the prison. You’re pretty sure it was some kind of revenge sex. But like, revenge on Doyle. Kind of to spite him. Whatever.

Now you’re back to the way less climactic reality. The others are working tirelessly on preparing everything for court. You, however, are still hung up on your feeling, your hunch, that something else is going on. The arrest feels too easy.

You knock on the door to Penelope’s office.

“Come in!”

“Hey, Penelope.” You enter and hand her the coffee you got her.

“That’s why you’re my favorite.” She widely grins at you, but you raise an eyebrow.

She adds: “Well, besides Derek.”

You sit down next to her: “I still take it as a huge compliment, considering you’ve known me for like eight months.”

Penelope giggles and says: “You make Spencer happy. I’ve never seen him this happy. And that makes me happy.”

You whip your head around: “What?”

She pokes your chest with her pen: “You might fool the others but not me.”

Your heart starts to pound faster. You gulp.

“We’re friends. And he has a girlfriend. What are you talking about?”

She leans back and her mouth falls open. _Oops._

“What I meant is that you look hardcore but you’re actually pretty sweet. Interesting, however, that your first thought was that I think you’re his girlfriend.”

“I, well…” You clear your voice: “That’s what Hotchner thought.” You shrug your shoulders.

Penelope narrows her eyes: “Sure.”

“So. The call.” You turn in your chair to look at her monitor. She tantalizes you for a moment before she tells you: “The call came in from a prepaid. There isn’t much I can tell you about where it came from. I only know that it was here in D.C.”

Nodding, you ask: “And the voice?”

Penelope types something and a window pops up.

_FBI tip line. How can I help you?_

_Ian Doyle will be in the Washington National Cathedral in an hour._

_Can you…_

“End of call.” Penelope shrugs.

“The voice is distorted. Were you able to filter something out?”

She sighs: “I really tried. And I am the best. Which makes it even worse. But I could only isolate the background noises. No idea what the real voice sounds like. I don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman calling.”

“Can you send everything to my phone?”

She hits a few keys; you feel your phone vibrate.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“You don’t know Doyle like we do.” Hotchner tells you.

“That’s the point. My connection to him isn’t as personal, it’s easier for me to question his behavior. And I’m telling you, something is off.”

Hotchner sighs: “One day. You have one day to find something, after that you will work with everyone else.”

You nod and leave his office.

Quickly, you walk back to your desk and get your headphones out. The others are in the conference room to go through the files. You put your headphones in and replay the call. Penelope sent you a filtered version in which you can hear the background, a slowed down version, and the original call.

Closing your eyes, you replay it over and over again. The background noises are probably what will help you the most. Maybe, if you can locate where the call came from, there is CCTV footage. You can hear people yell something as well as a familiar sound that you are not able to place quite yet. Like a rhythmic doorbell.

Suddenly, someone taps your shoulder, making you rip the headphones out of your ears.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Spencer smiles down at you before leaning against your desk.

“How is it going in there?” You nod towards the conference room.

His eyes dart around a bit until he admits: “It’s difficult. We have to look at the files about Emily’s murder.”

You roll your chair towards him and put your hand on his thigh, rubbing it.

“Do you want to take a break?”

Spencer shakes his head: “I can’t. I just came down to ask what you are working on.”

You smile and tilt your head: “That’s sweet of you.”

He stares down at his feet, making you grin a little more.

“I’m trying to find out more about the caller. Hotchner gave me a day.”

“What makes you think there is something going on? It was probably someone he crossed and wanted him out of the game.”

“Yeah, probably.” You fidget with your headphones. “It just- the way he talked to me in the transporter…”

Your jump out of your chair.

“What?” Spencer asks startled while you are already sprinting towards Hotchner’s office.

Without knocking, you enter it. Hotchner looks at you with a grim face and starts to exhort you.

“Did you tell Doyle my name during the interrogation?” You interrupt him.

He furrows his eyebrows and gets up from his chair: “What?”

“Did you tell him my name?”

Hotchner crosses his arms: “No.”

“Shit.” You mutter, rubbing your face, walking around in a circle, trying to control your breathing.

Spencer enters the office as well: “What’s going on?”

“He knew my name.” You tell them. “Doyle knew who I was.”

“He could have heard it at some point.” Spencer suggests.

You shake your head: “No, he _knew_ who I was. He said: _Ah, very good, Agent Byrne. I see, you quickly developed your profiling skills._ ”

Shooting you a nervous look, Spencer shifts in his position.

Hotchner puts his hands on his hips: “Doyle is obsessed with this team. He surely knew that you were recruited.”

You sigh. He clearly doesn’t give a shit about this. “Okay.” You eventually reply and leave the room before you yell at Hotchner. Again.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The recording of the call replays in your head like music by now. You need a break. Without asking for permission, you get up from your desk and put your jacket on. Outside the Hoover building, you decide to take a walk. Turning right, you walk down 9th street towards Pennsylvania Avenue, heading to the Market Square West to enjoy the sun for a few minutes. On days like this you’re happy you no longer have to drive all the way out to Quantico as you used to. FBI and DEA both have their academies out there, but headquarters are dead center in D.C.

Just when you sit down at the Market Square, the sound from the recording replays in your head. Only, it’s not in your head. Shielding your eyes, you look around to locate the source of the sound. The Metro. It’s the fucking Metro. You just walked by the entrance to Penn Quarter Station.

Getting out your phone, you slowly walk down towards the track.

“Hey, Pen. Can you send me the exact time the call came in? And could you also please find out if there were any major delays on the metro at that time?”

“I have no idea what you want with that information, but sure thing. Give me two minutes.”

After thanking her, you hang up and listen to the recording again.

It’s a long shot but maybe you can retrace at which station the call was made. You listen to the yelling again. It could very well be a demonstration. Which means it was probably close to the Capitol. When you get the info you need from Penelope, you get in the Metro to get to Capitol South.

Outside the station, you walk around to find out in which spot the sound of the alarm of the Metro doors closing can be heard at about the same volume as in the recording. You’re pretty sure you found the spot and call Garcia again.

“You just cannot enough of me, can you?” She greets you.

“I simply try to get above Morgan in your rating.”

You then tell her where you are and to check the CCTV. You wait at the exact same spot until she tells you that she can see you.

“I need you to check out who was…”

You stop talking when you feel something tough being pressed against your back.

“Turn the phone off.” A male voice whisper-yells at you.

You do as he says but inform him: “This is a bad idea. I’m a Federal Agent, I don’t recommend going any further with this.”

“I know who you are.” He hisses. “That’s why I’m here. Now walk.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The last thing you can remember, is how he rammed a needle in your neck and pushed you into a van. Now the bright light of a floodlight is blinding you. It’s so bright that you can barely make out the man standing in front of you. He’s just a shadow, blocking some of the white light.

“You couldn’t just take the win, could you?”

Blinking repeatedly, you try to orientate yourself.

“Agent Byrne. The poster girl of the DEA. That is, until…well, you know.” He sneers.

At this point you give up on making out where you are and just close you eyes and let your head hang down, immediately relieving some of the pain in it.

“Just get this over with.” You try to sound rather annoyed than scared.

“I wish it were that easy. But it never is, is it?” The man sighs. “Tell me who you were on the phone with.”

“Can’t you find that out yourself.”

“Not since you dumped it in a gully.”

You chuckle when you remember: “Oh yeah.” It was a risky move. Garcia can’t trace you anymore, but now they don’t know she saw everything on the surveillance camera as it was happening.

“So, tell me or this will get really painful really fast for you.”

“Fuck off.”

He sighs again. Then you hear him step closer.

When you lift your head to look at him, he hits you right in the face. Your vision goes black and you groan. He hits you three more times until he grabs your chin and repeats his question.

“How about a trade?” You offer.

He laughs: “You’re in no position to negotiate.”

You smile, blood and saliva running down your chin: “Neither are you. You need to find out who was on the phone or you’re fucked. And with every minute you waste, you are closer to being screwed.”

He takes a step back. Your head hurts. Your wrists that are strapped to the chair hurt. Everything is a little blurry. But you feel the energy shift.

“What do you want?”

“How do you know what happened to me?”

He realizes that he slipped up earlier when he was so sure of himself, trying to ridicule you.

It’s silent after that for a long time. Wouldn’t you hear him breathe you wouldn’t know that he is still there. Eventually, you hear him walk away, somewhere behind the light.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

You’re not sure how long he was gone, but when he comes back, you hear a cart being pushed towards you. He dims the light a little. At first you are thankful but then you realize he did it so you could see what he brought with him. Some nasty looking instruments to make you talk.

The first things he grabs are a nail and a hammer. You take a deep breath, desperately trying to brace yourself.

“Last chance to talk before it gets really ugly.” He tells you and presses the pointy end of the nail into the back of your hand, raising the hammer.

Doubt floods your mind. What if Garcia didn’t realize what happened? What if Hotchner didn’t take it seriously? But Spencer…Just think about Spencer.

“Fuck you.” You spit blood on his shirt.

Everything happens so fast that you only realize what he did when excruciating pain shoots through your hand and arm. You let out a scream before you start to quietly groan, head hanging down.

“You have five minutes to reconsider your options.”

Breathing heavily, you try to work through the pain. You try to hold your hand as still as possible. The pain hits you in waves and you start to sweat as your body desperately tries to get you through it.

Then, suddenly, the room goes from quiet, only your groans being audible, to yelling and people running around. You can make out someone shouting “FBI!” which immediately makes you sob in relieve.

“Emily!”

Your head shoots up. Spencer is sprinting towards you and falls to his knees in front of you.

He clasps your face, pushing the strands of hair aside. Spencer loudly gasps when he sees what your face looks like.

“What took you so long?” You groan.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you repeatedly while cutting you loose.

“Oh god.” Spencer gasps again when he sees the nail in your hand.

Suddenly, you hear shots being fired from somewhere nearby. You thought they simply arrested him…

“No!” You scream. With your now free hand, you grab the nail and yank it out of you. It hurts like hell, but the new wave of adrenaline enables you to run towards where the shots were fired.

You run past SWAT and your team. Morgan apparently being the one that shot him. The man is laying on the floor, blood pooling around him. “No!” You yell again.

Falling to your knees, you press your hands on the wounds. He’s still breathing.

Now that you can look at him, he doesn’t strike you as anyone you have seen before. Male, white, maybe forty, black hair…

“Who sent you?” You yell at him.

His eyes fly open and he focuses on your face.

“How do you know about my case?”

He just smiles.

You push a finger into one of the wounds, making him cry out in pain.

“WHO?”

“Clever girl.” He coughs up blood. “You’ll figure it out.”

With that, his head falls to the side. You start to slap his cheek even though you know it’s in vain.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Hotchner drags you off him: “Byrne. Stop.”

You try to get rid of his grip, but you’re way too weak at this point. 

Spencer sits down next to you, quietly wiping the blood off you the best he can. You stare at your hands while the sounds around you become white noise. The SWAT, the rest of your team, Hotchner calling for an ambulance…

Slowly, your mind starts to catch up to what happened.

Spencer stops what he’s doing and stands up. Putting his arms around you, he helps you to get up as well. Your legs are like jelly and you have to lean into him.

He gets into the ambulance with you. You tried to argue with the EMT, but they insisted that your wounds have to be inspected properly and that you need antibiotics. On the way to the hospital, he holds the hand that’s not wounded. Caressing your cheek, he leans as close as possible to you and whispers your favorite Edgar Allan Poe story into your ear.

Tears start to run down your cheeks, but he doesn’t stop until the doctor comes to examine you. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The exhaustion knocked you out, but only for a few hours. When you wake up, you see Spencer sleeping in the chair next to the hospital bed, head propped up on his hand. He looks so beautiful it makes you want to cry.

The painkillers are working a treat and you carefully get up to go to the bathroom. Your face looks bad, but not as bad as you expected. The man seems to mainly have hit your cheekbones because there are black bruises forming over them. You stick out your tongue to confirm that the blood came from you biting on it when he punched you. Carefully wash your face with the hand that doesn’t have a hole in it, sighing at the pleasant cold sensation.

When you get back into bed, Spencer wakes up. He immediately sits up straight when he sees that you are awake.

“Hey.” You smile at him.

His eyes dart over your face and body and he looks like he is about to cry.

“I’m okay.” You assure him.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Em. I should have found you sooner. I promised you I would…” Spencer rubs his eyes with his hands.

You lean over to grab his arm and tug on it until he gets up to sit in bed next to you.

He puts his arm around you and buries his face in your hair. Leaning into him, you say: “You promised you would find me. And you did. Thank you.”

Spencer’s breathing hitches. You put your hand on the side of his neck and make him look at you. His eyes are red from him rubbing them repeatedly.

You kiss him. He gently lays his hand on your jaw, running his thumb over your face, just below your bruises. The kiss is slow and sweet and makes your heart flutter.

You lean your forehead against his. Tears starting to run down your cheeks. Spencer notices and lifts his head, pulling you against his chest.

Quietly, you cry into the fabric of his sweater. The shock has worn off and the fear and anger and sadness freely flow through you. When you calmed down a bit, Spencer helps you lay down again. The nurse comes in to give you another dose of morphine, making you sleepy instantly.

Sniffing, you ask him: “How did you know what my favorite Edgar Allan Poe story is The Telltale Heart?”

Spencer kisses the top of your head: “The pages had the most wrinkles in them.”

You let out a tired laugh: “And of course you memorized it.”

“I wanted to be able to tell it to you in the dark, when you cannot sleep, so I don’t need to turn on the light.”

Now you’re the one to mumble something unintelligible before falling asleep.


	29. Punchline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer looks out for you after you leave the hospital. Yesterday's developemts force you to open up to the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [canon-typical-drama; fluff]

Spencer wants to stay at the hospital with you the whole night. After some back and forth, however, you talk him into going home and returning in the morning with some fresh clothes for you. You give him the key to your apartment and ask him to send a unit to where you dropped your phone to hopefully have it recovered.

When the nurse comes in to give you another dose of painkillers, you refuse. You want to be properly awake in the morning, not as dazed as you are now. She eventually agrees on it, maybe because she heard in your tone that you will otherwise rip out the vein catheter.

The small lamp on the bedside table is the only source of light. They closed the curtains to the hallway so that only a small amount of light shines into the room. You carefully palpate your bandaged hand. There is some swelling around where the nail penetrated it, but the wound is already closing. Nevertheless, it will leave a scar. You exhale loudly and sink back into the pillow.

Your head hurts, more than your hand actually. The doctor told you that you don’t have a concussion, only nasty bruises and swelling around your cheek. You also have to be careful with what you drink since you bit your tongue really hard.

Now that the morphine starts to wear off, your thoughts start to race again. He knew about your case. He knew about Doyle. How are these two things connected? Did Doyle send him or did somebody else?

Trying to get comfortable in the hospital bed, you try to figure out the answer until you slip into a light sleep.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The doctor checked you out about half an hour before Spencer comes in. She told you to rest at home for at least a week before going to work again. She also gave you a bottle of painkillers and antibiotics.

“Hey, Em.” Spencer enters the room smiling, a duffle bag in his hand.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and get up to take it from him.

“Shouldn’t you stay in bed?” He asks worried.

“I can leave.” You inform him and open the bag. “Did you find my phone?”

“Oh, yeah.” Spencer hands it to you.

“Thanks.” You give him a smile and unpack the clothes.

“I got here with your car so that I can drive you home.”

You turn to him while pulling the sweater over your head: “We need to go to work.”

Spencer steps closer and tries to help you when you put your jeans on.

“I got it. Let’s just go to work.”

He pulls his hands back and quietly observes you. When you try to squeeze past him, he grabs you shoulders and waits until you look at him.

“Emily. You need to rest.”

“Look, I appreciate you worrying about me, but we need to go to work.”

He shakes his head: “Why?”

You clench your jaw and stare at him, but he doesn’t let go. Finally, you give up and sit back down. Spencer pushes the chair closer to the bed so that he can sit down while holding your hands.

“What’s going on?”

“He knew.” You whisper. “He knew about my case. That’s why I tried to question him after Morgan shot him.”

Spencer’s eyes widen and you see the wheels turning in his head: “Do you think Doyle had something to do with your abduction?”

“I think Doyle knows who is responsible.”

“That’s why he knew who you are.” Spencer concludes.

You nod: “I think I found where the call came from when we got the tip. That’s why I need to go back to work.”

“You’ll have to tell the team about your abduction.”

Your heart feels like it stopped beating and you hold your breath.

“No.”

“They can help.”

“No.” You repeat.

“Why are you ashamed? None of this is your fault.”

“I know that.” You pull your hands away from his grasp.

“Then let them – me – help you. It’s the first lead you got in years.”

You rub your eyes. Tears forming in them. You know that he’s right.

Something starts to boil inside you. _They_ made you feel ashamed. _They_ did this to you. _They_ got away with it. And _you_ let them hold this power over you.

A part of you also wants to shock Hotchner. Just show him how fucking wrong he was, is, about you. How everyone thinks they are oh so great profilers, but no one except Spencer actually does their work as good as they think they are. 

“There will be now going back. I cannot backpaddle out of this.” You tell him.

Spencer takes your hand again and kisses the back of it: “I know you can do this.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

A stack of papers under your arm, Spencer and you push a whiteboard into the conference room. He hands you a marker and puts adhesive foil on the back of every picture.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asks when he enters the room.

“Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?” JJ looks at you as she walks in behind Morgan.

“I’m fine.”

Morgan scoffs: “Your face begs to differ.”

“Wow.”

“You know what I mean.”

At first, you put up a picture of Doyle and Emily, drawing a line between them. Then you put up a picture of the man who abducted you yesterday. You don’t have an ID on him yet, so you use the photo the crime scene technician took, and a picture form the CCTV footage Garcia recorded and call him John Doe. Then you draw a line to Doyle, putting a question mark next to it. Before you can go on, Garcia, Hotchner and Rossi come in.

“Reid said you want to show us something?” Rossi looks at the board and back at you, his eyes lingering on the photo of Prentiss.

“You should sit down.” Spencer tells them before you can.

Hotchner clenches his jaw but does as told.

You turn back to the board and draw a black square with a big question mark in the middle, representing the people who took you. Then you draw a line to John Doe. 

Finally, you start to put up pictures of you that were taken after they let you go. However, you don’t use any with your face on it. Just those of your back and legs and arms and everything else that were photographed. You gulp when you look at them and get lightheaded.

When the others see the pictures, they stop talking and sit incredibly still. Only Garcia lets out an audible gasp. Lastly, you draw a line from the pictures of you to the unsub(s) that took you, represented by the black square.

Slowly, you turn around, even though you feel like you are about to faint. Spencer steps a little closer and brushes the back of your hand with his. “You can do this.” He whispers like he did in the hospital.

You nod and he sits down. Clearing your voice, you nervously look around. The others try their best not to stare at the bruises on your face.

“Okay.” You start. “The man that abducted me yesterday new something about Doyle’s arrest. He apparently didn’t like that I tried to find out who made the call. Garcia?”

She gets up and everyone looks at the monitor for a moment: “Here you see Agent Byrne being on the phone with me at South Capitol Station.” She zooms in on you. “Then someone walks up behind her and forces her to hang up.”

Now that you see it happening from an outside perspective it’s way easier to analyze.

“While I notified you, I tracked them with the traffic cameras.”

You twitch when you see how you enter an alleyway, and a van driving out of it a few minutes later. “At some point I lost them on the highway, but, as you know, we found where they took her eventually.”

“Did you look at the footage from the day when the call came in?” You ask her.

“Of course.” Garcia chirps. “Good news: you were right about the location, which is incredible.” Spencer gives you a proud smile. “Bad news,” Garcia continues: “They were wearing wide black clothing. I only can tell you their height, assuming they didn’t wear shoes that made them appear taller.”

Everyone nods, and Garcia sits back down after you thanked her.

Turning back to the whiteboard you point at the picture of the man from yesterday: “He knew about Doyle. He also knew about my case.” You trace the two lines that connect him with Doyle and the one with the unsub.

“Your case?” Hotchner leans forwards.

Somehow any fear in you vanished by now.

“Yes.” You point at the graphic pictures.

You see the lightbulb go off in everyone’s head and it’s the first time you see Hotchner really upset.

“That’s you?!” Morgan shouts.

You clear your voice and point at the pictures: “I was held captive for six months, being tortured. John Doe knew about it. He also insinuated that he knew who did it.”

JJ and Hotchner look at each other and back at the whiteboard. Spencer gives you a supporting nod. Garcia looks like she is about to cry. And Rossi just sits there with his arms crossed, looking like he saw a ghost.

“Hence, we have at least three unsubs: John Doe, the person or the group that abducted me, and the person who made the call.”

As Spencer is the only one who already knew about this, he is the first to be able to talk: “Could John Doe be the person who made the call?”

“It’s possible.”

When he speaks, Hotchner’s voice is quieter and rougher than ever before: “I’d like to apologize, Agent Byrne.”

Everyone turns their heads to look at him. Your mouth falls open.

“I didn’t know what happened to you and made assumptions that were based on very superficial observations. I’m sorry.”

Hotchner looks you in the eyes and you can see the pain in them. He’s _really_ upset.

Nodding, you repeat what he said after you yelled at him about the scars and him calling you a junkie: “Noted.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Rossi and JJ keep working on the pending trial, Morgan and Hotchner focus on John Doe while you and Spencer take on the caller. Your abductors have to be linked to both of them.

You’re going through the CCTV footage again as well as the audio.

“Maybe if we can track where they went, we’ll find a video that recorded their face.” You suggest. Spencer nods and you get up to ask Garcia about it. When you grab the door, pain shoots through your arm. You forgot about the injury. Cursing, you look at your hand.

Spencer already got up and is next to you when he asks: “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You assure him and try to walk out. Spencer grabs you arm.

“You’re bleeding.” He lifts your arm.

“Shit.” The bandage is slowly getting soak, turning red.

“Let’s go home. Okay? It’s late.” He suggests.

Hesitantly, you agree. You’re tired and hungry and in pain.

Spencer steals a kiss from you before shutting off the computers and following you down the hallway.

The others agree with calling it a day and pack up their stuff. On the way to your car, you hand Spencer the keys: “Don’t get used to it. It’s still my car.”

He chuckles but then adds in a serious tone: “I preferred it when you couldn’t drive because we had sex than now being unable to do so because you’re injured.”

“Same.” You push his shoulder with yours.

In the car, you ask: “Do you think Hotchner will let me talk to Doyle?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe he doesn’t want to risk it. It could influence the trial.”

You nod and look out of the window quietly. Spencer drives way more careful than you do which usually it annoys you. Now you’re thankful for it. Your head is spinning, and your eyes keep falling shut.

“We’re here.” Spencer tells you after he turned off the engine.

Dozily, you lift your head: “We’re home?”

“Yeah, come on.” He quickly walks around the car to help you get out. Leaning into him, you make it up the stairs. Only in front of the door, you realize that you’re at his place. _Home._ You sigh at the thought.

After you took of your shoes, you ask Spencer: “Would you help me shower?”

He smiles brightly and takes your hand, leading you into the bathroom. He makes you sit on the edge of the bathtub while he lets it fill up with water.

“A shower is enough.” You try to argue but he stubbornly insists that you will take a bath. Too tired to argue, you roll with it.

Carefully, Spencer helps you take off your clothes and the bandage. You inspect the wound and remember that you have to take antibiotics. Of course, Spencer is already a step ahead of you, and hands you two pills. The other one probably being a painkiller.

Before you get in the tub, you go to brush your teeth. It’s the first time since yesterday that you looked into a mirror. You inhale sharply when you see your face. Running your fingers over the bruises, you state: “Damn. You all really kept it together. I look awful.”

Spencer kisses the back of your neck: “You look pretty.”

“That’s still not funny.”

“It’s still not a joke.”


	30. Backfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotchner lets you talk to Doyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [smut; fluff; canon-typical-drama; emotional distress]

As usual, you wake up before Spencer does. Your hand hurts like hell because you accidentally slept on it. You get up to change the bandage and take some painkillers. The swelling on the side of your face has gone down, but the bruises still look nasty. You decide to look into a mirror as little as possible for the next few days.

“Em?” You hear Spencer’s raspy voice just when you enter the bedroom. He’s aimlessly reaching out to the side of the bed you slept on, his eyes still closed.

You quickly crawl back under the warm sheets: “I’m here.”

“Hmh, okay.” He mumbles while slowly waking up.

You play with his hair until he fully turns around to look at you. His eyes linger on your bruises for a moment before he finds your eyes. But you notice.

“Stop blaming yourself.”

He feels caught and clears his voice: “How are you feeling?”

“It’s been worse.” You smile at him.

Spencer nods and you lean over to press a kiss onto his lips. You feel him smile against your mouth.

“What?” You trace his cheekbone while he tries to suppress a grin.

“Tell me.” You scoot closer but he shakes his head.

Narrowing your eyes, you slither your hand under the blanket and find his dick.

Surprised, he inhales at the sensation.

Leaning over, you press him into the mattress with your shoulder, your head hovering above his face. Spencer gulps when you start to palm his cock. Bowing your head down, you trail kisses from the side of his neck up to his lips.

He writhers beneath you and you feel his dick get hard in your hand. Just when his eyes fall shut, you let go and pull your hand away. Spencer groans and opens his eyes again: “That’s not fair!”

You smile and give him a peck on the lips: “Time to get up.”

Just when you go to swing your legs over the side of the bed, Spencer grabs your arm and pulls you back into him.

You let out a giggle and turn to face him. His cheeks are flushed.

“No way you are getting out of this bed right now.” He murmurs and runs his fingers through your hair, slightly pulling on it.

Cradling his face, you kiss him gently and tell him: “You better come up with a good argument why I shouldn’t leave get coffee.”

Spencer presses his body against yours and you feel his hand wandering up your thigh. Your pulse quickens. He kisses your exposed shoulder, and you feel his warm breath on the side of your neck. You let out a sigh when he pushes his hand into your panties, running his fingers down through your pubic hair until he finds your clit.

You sigh again when he starts to apply pressure, gently drawing circles over it. Your hand wanders back to his crotch and you push it into his boxers to palm his still half-hard dick. You kiss each other several times, each kiss getting sloppier and breathier due to your growing arousal.

Finally, you both give up and just press your bodies together while getting each other off. Once, you pull your hand back up and hold it close to Spencer’s mouth: “Spit.” You order.

His eyes dart nervously over your face, but just when you about to tell him that he doesn’t have to do it if he’s uncomfortable, he spits into your hand. He’s hesitant about it but it’s enough to lubricate his cock. You don’t want to hurt him when going faster.

Now, however, you can really go at it. Spencer let’s out a few curses and closes his eyes, groaning under your touch. His voice makes your own arousal grow and you start to roll your hips against his hand. When several higher pitched moans escape your lips, you feel his dick twitch in response.

It’s exciting to feel each other like that. Seeing the immediate effect, imagining how the other looks like this when they do it on their own. The image of Spencer laying in this bed, moaning while touching himself, makes you clench your thighs together.

“Do you…” You ask panting, “Do you think of me when you masturbate?”

Spencer’s eyes shoot open, his pupils wide, giving you his disarming puppy-eyes.

“I-I don’t…now that we’re…” He stutters.

Running your fingers over the tip of his cock, you rephrase your question: “Did you used to think about…fuck…think about me when…you made yourself cum?” You murmur against his skin after biting his bottom lip.

“Oh god, fuck, Em…When you talk to me like that I-“ Spencer’s head falls back.

He speeds up the movements on your clit, dipping his middle and ring finger into your entrance a few times to wet them. Seeing what you are doing to him makes your walls tighten and your whole body tenses. The stimulation between your legs lets warmth spread through your body.

Your free hand, the bandaged one, shoots up to grab Spencer’s neck. Pressing your thumb against his jaw, you make him turn his head so that you can kiss him while your orgasm is about to hit. Spencer loudly moans and you feel his legs tense.

“Yes.” He finally breathes out. “Yes, I thought about…how you would…fuck me.”

Your eyes roll back while your walls start to spasm. Letting out a loud sigh, followed by a low moan, you cum in Spencer’s hand. It makes you tighten your grip around his neck a little. When you let go of it, Spencer lets out a high-pitched moan and his hips studder. You slow down your movements, working him through his orgasm while your own is still sending waves of pleasure and euphoria through your body.

Eventually, you pull your now sticky hand away and rest it on the side of his boxers. With your eyes closed, you hum in content, feeling your pulse hammering. While breathing heavily, Spencer runs his hand up and down your thigh.

After a few minutes, he takes his hand away and you curl into his side. Letting out a sigh, he puts his arms around you.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Good morning, sunshine!” You hear Morgan greet Spencer while you are still in the office kitchen to get some water.

“A new nickname?” You ask when you walk over.

Morgan grins: “Look at him. His girlfriend must be really-“

“Yes.” Spencer interrupts him before Morgan can say something obscene.

Chuckling, you walk up to the conference room with the whiteboard.

Slowly, you get back into your work-mindset. Leaning against the roundtable, you let your eyes wander over the pictures, mostly ignoring those of yourself. You start to add details to the board like the time of the call, place, and other stuff.

“Byrne?” Hotchner walks in.

“Hmh?” You answer while you keep looking at the board.

When he doesn’t say anything else, you turn around.

He looks like he didn’t sleep much. When he sees the state of your face, his breathing hitches.

After a few seconds of silence, you ask: “Do you want to talk to me about something?”

Hotchner blinks a few times, before he admits: “I looked into your case.”

You raise an eyebrow: “I gather that’s why you look this tired?”

He crosses his arms but nods: “I think it would be a good idea to consult your former collogue about this.”

 _Issacs._ You completely forgot. He even told you he is still working on it.

“I’d appreciate it.” You agree. After a pause, you ask: “Am I allowed to talk to Doyle?”

Hotchner visibly weighs his options. Eventually, he says: “I’ll go with you.” 

John Doe’s picture in one hand, your coat on the other, you walk with Hotchner towards the elevator. Spencer walks around the corner just in time to bump into you. “Where are you going?” His eyes dart between you and Hotchner.

“Byrne will interview Doyle.” Hotchner informs him.

Spencer looks at you surprised.

“Can I come?”

“No, keep working on the CCTV footage.” Hotchner orders before you can say anything.

You give Spencer a small smile and press the button of the elevator. He nods at you, but you see the worry in his eyes when the doors close.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

You nervously keep rubbing your bandaged hand while you wait on Doyle. Hotchner notices but does you the favor of not saying anything. When you hear the door being unlocked, you get up from your chair.

Smiling, Doyle sits down, being chained to the table. After the guards stepped outside, you slide the picture of John Doe towards Doyle.

“Who is he?” You slide over the second picture of the man lying on the floor, shot.

Doyle looks at the photos for a second and back at you: “What happened to your face?”

You walk around the table and lean against it next to him, forcing him to look up to you.

“Who is he?” You repeat your question.

Doyle squints his eyes: “I don’t know his name.”

You smile: “So you know him.”

His façade falls for a second when he realizes his slip.

“Did you send him?”

“Why would I do that?”

“To find out who snitched on you.”

Doyle laughs. You sit back down. Hotchner kept quiet the whole time.

“I’ll offer you a deal: You let me touch your arm, and I tell you who made the call.”

“No.” Hotchner immediately interrupts.

But you don’t even need to agree to the trade.

You just get up: “Thank you for your time.”

He knows about your track marks. So, he knows about what happened to you. He just confirmed the connection. And for some reason, he wanted to be arrested.

Doyle clicks his tongue: “Look at you, Emily. All calm. Who would have thought?”

You freeze in your movements and Hotchner, who already is halfway to the door, turns back around.

“You sound disappointed.” You state.

He sighs: “I really believed in you. And now…You’re SO boring.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” You ask while sitting back down.

Doyle smiles widely and leans closer: “Six months.” He whispers.

“Six months.” He starts to raise his voice again, the tone making you shiver. “Six months we spent breaking you down. Draining everything out of you and sending you back into the world. Ready to destroy anything.”

Your head starts to spin: “You’re lying.”

“Ah, I wish I was. So much effort. What changed you? All this work could be undone, by what?”

You feel so heavy like you’re about to fall through the earth. It takes all of your strength to look back up: “Why would you do that?”

Doyle doesn’t have to answer. He just looks at Hotchner.

Abruptly, you get up from your chair.

“You put me through hell for revenge?!” You yell.

With a smug look on his face, he leans back: “I don’t care what you went through. I wanted you to get on the team and destroy it from the inside out. Snorting all this cocaine, drinking all the alcohol thrown your way, and still…It’s fascinating. Will you tell me how you did it? How you stopped?”

“Why would you tell me all of this?” You ignore his questions.

Doyle takes a deep breath: “Just for this moment. Just to see the look in your eyes when you realize the reason, I choose you, was that I thought it was funny to send someone who’s name is Emily as well.”

It’s dead silent. Even Hotchner looks stunned.

Sinking back into the chair, you go over the timeline in your head: “You planned this before you killed Prentiss?”

Proudly, he nods: “Oh, yeah. That was just luck.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Hotchner tense.

You’re staring at the table. Everything gets blurry. You try your best to keep it together, but you have to hide your face in your hands. Which just reminds you of the hole in one of them. Suddenly, you feel someone squeezing your knee. Your head shoots up. Hotchner doesn’t move a muscle of his face, just his hand. When he feels that you calmed down a bit, he takes it away.

“Now that I answered the question that tortured you for the past years – pun intended - , don’t you think I deserve to know why it didn’t work?” Doyle breaks the silence after enjoying watching you.

The look in your eyes when you stare at him actually makes him twitch. Hotchner is just as surprised about the volume you scream at as Doyle: “I did that!” You yell. “I pulled myself out of the gutter! All the way to the FBI!”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

All the way back to the office, you don’t feel like you are even there. You don’t feel your body. Hotchner says something a few times, but you don’t understand it and don’t care to ask. After he parks the car, you get out and start to walk towards the entrance.

Just in front the doors, someone grabs your arm. You start to pull your arm away, but a familiar voice says: “Byrne, it’s Isaacs. Hotchner send a message.”

Raising your head, you look at the familiar face. He smiles at you and you grab the side of his face, feeling his beard under your touch.

Isaacs pulls you into a hug. You just stand there in silence. His touch making you come back to earth.

“You did it.” He whispers repeatedly. You nod against his shoulder.

When he lets go of you, you keep holding on to his arms: “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” He kisses your cheek.

You rub your hands over your face. When you turn around, you see Spencer standing a few feet away, observing you. Hotchner seems to already be inside.

When walk towards him, you notice how he clenches his jaw. You grab his face with both hands and kiss him. He’s obviously surprised because for a moment he doesn’t react. Then he slowly starts to kiss you back, putting one of his hands on the back of your neck.

Squeezing his hand, you turn back around. “This is Cal Isaacs, my former partner at the DEA. This is Dr. Spencer Reid, the best profiler of the FBI.” You introduce them to each other.

“ _Very_ nice to meet you.” Isaacs smiles and offers Spencer his hand. To your surprise, Spencer takes it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“We still need to figure out why Doyle wanted to be captured.” You state while updating the whiteboard. Everyone nods.

“I’d still like to assist on this case.” Isaacs tells the team. He came up with you to meet the others and let you show him your new workplace.

Hotchner agrees.

To say that you’re still overwhelmed would be an understatement. However, there is work to do and having Spencer and Cal around considerably helps you. Penelope started hitting on Cal the moment she entered the bullpen, flustering him with her direct approach.

It’s fun. You missed working with him. You missed the only friend you have.

“So…” Cal starts when you three are alone. Spencer and you look up at him. He gestures between the two of you.

You look at Spencer and get lost in his eyes for a second.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Spencer answers straightforward. It makes you grin. He still seems to be a little jealous.

Cal’s smile brightens: “Aren’t intimate relationships between agents forbidden?”

“Not explicitly.” Spencer and you answer in union.


	31. Sweet Nothings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and You whisper important things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fluff; tension]
> 
> not one, but two revelations. oop.

Even though you and Spencer clarified your relationship to Isaacs, you still feel the jealousy radiating off of him. Nevertheless, you agree when Isaacs invites you and Spencer for drinks in the evening.

“To Emily.” Isaacs toast and you tap his glass smiling, then Spencer’s. It makes Spencer shift in his seat when you talk to Isaacs about your former work at the DEA.

Later, Cal asks: “Was Doyle right about you using?”

You choke on your drink and feel Spencer tense.

“Yes.”

Cal leans back in his chair: “Since when?”

You shrug your shoulders: “A few weeks after I was released.”

He sighs: “I didn’t really notice. I explained your behavior with…you know. What happened.”

Side-eying Spencer, you tell him: “Happens more often than you think.”

“Don’t you want to call Sagá?” Spencer changes the subject.

“Oh, yeah.” You get out your phone.

Isaacs furrows his eyebrows.

“Her friend from Malmö.” Spencer explains.

“Right.” Isaacs nods.

You look at the time. Noticing, Spencer tells you: “It’s midnight in Sweden.”

The corners of Cal’s mouth twitch when you dial the number. Spencer notices and furrows his eyebrows.

“Saga Norén, Länskrim Malmö.”

“Hej, Saga. Det här är Emily Byrne.”

Smiling, you report to her what you found out. Her answers are short, but you hear that she’s relieved.

While you’re eating, Cal tries his best to make conversation with Spencer as well. Slowly, Spencer warms up a little, but you see that he’s uncomfortable. After dinner, you keep talking a little until Spencer puts his hand on your thigh and squeezes it. You grab his hand under the table and rub the back of it with your thumb. Understanding his plea, and being tired yourself, you declare: “We should get going.”

Outside, you give Cal a quick hug and he kisses your cheek. Spencer deliberately takes a step back, so that he doesn’t have to shake Cal’s hand but can just wave at him. When you turn around, you smile at Spencer and put your arm around his waist. You want to start walking, but he doesn’t move, he only puts his arm around you as well.

“What’s going on with you?”

Spencer looks at his shoes.

Leaning closer into him, ignoring the sound of the traffic nearby, you tell him: “You know, I was unbelievably jealous about JJ until I found out that she’s gay.”

That makes him look at you: “You were?”

“To an unhealthy amount” You admit.

“Oh.” His eyes dart over your face.

“Let’s go home and talk there.” You propose.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

At some point _home_ has become synonymous for Spencer’s couch.

He makes tea for you both and sits down next to you. After a few sips, you put your mug down and ask: “Are you jealous about Cal?”

Spencer nods.

“Why?”

“He’s much older than me. I’m insecure about…the age gap. I feel…” He sighs.

You tilt your head and look him up and down. The locks on top of his head have become longer again and a few strands are hanging in front of his face. He puts his mug down as well and reluctantly looks at you.

Leaning towards him, you kiss him gently, one hand on his thigh. Spencer reacts by clasping your face with both hands. When you lean back, you see a little sparkle in his eyes.

“You said something to me once: _my girlfriend needs to know how breathtaking she is_.”

Spencer unconsciously smiles at the memory.

“You need to know that as well. I need you to understand how everything about you is just beautiful.”

He gulps at your words and looks down at his hands.

“Spencer?” You whisper. “Will you tell me what you said that night?”

The first night he spent at your apartment. The night of the withdrawal. The night you already asked him about.

His cheeks flush: “I-I don’t know…”

“It’s a good idea. It is.” You assure him. You want to hear it.

Spencer is quiet for a minute. Then he leans back and clears his voice.

“I said, I said…” His voice trembles. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes widen. That’s not what you expected. You thought it was something about him actually liking you even though behaved like he didn’t. But that he already liked you _this_ much after throwing up in your bathroom for hours…

“You fell in love with me that night?” You’re stunned beyond believe.

Spencer shifts in his position: “I don’t know when I did. But that night…The morning when you read to me…”

Your heart flutters, but also aches: “Are you sure it wasn’t just because I took care of you?”

He tilts his head and then responds with a steady voice: “No.”

You inhale sharply.

“Were you right?” You whisper. “Did you?”

You can see the panic in Spencer’s eyes and how his breathing quickens.

“Yes.” He mumbles, almost intelligible.

You don’t know how to react. Everything slows down and speeds up at the same time. You’re thoughts are racing and your heart is about to jump out of your chest. Only when Spencer starts to fidget with the hem of his sweater and stares at his hands, you realize that you didn’t say anything at all.

“When I was strapped to that chair and was about to have my hand nailed to it…”

Spencer raises his gaze. You clear your voice to steady it.

“All I thought about was you.”

His eyes widen and he carefully takes your bandaged hand into his.

“When I was in the hospital and you told me my favorite story…when they gave me the morphine…” Your heart is hammering and it’s difficult to hear your own voice.

“The last thing I thought about before I fell asleep – was how much I love you.”

Spencer is on you in seconds. Straddling your lap, he grabs your head with both hands and presses his body against yours.

“You love me?”

“Of course I do.” You smile up at him and push the strands of hair out of his face.

He bows down and kisses you. Careful at first but quickly he gets rougher, his lips wetting yours.

Usually, you like his hands on your face but the bruises start to hurt.

“Spencer.” You mumble when he raises his head.

“Yeah?”

You put your hands on his arms: “My face…”

“Oh fuck. I’m so sorry.” He scoots back a little. “Should I get you an icepack?”

Shaking your head, you tell him: “It’s alright, and I would really like to do you right know…but everything beyond what we did in the morning is too much…”

“That was this morning?” Spencer furrows his eyebrows.

“Seems a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

He chuckles and gets off you: “Want to go to bed?”

Taking the hand Spencer offers you, you follow him to the bathroom. After brushing your teeth, washing your face, and attending your bruises, you finally can rest your head. You fall asleep with a smile on your face.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone knows that you’ve been running around in circles. The trial is prepared. Everyone is sitting around the roundtable, staring at the files in frustration.

“Why would Doyle come out of hiding now?” You reiterate the question the team discussed for the past two days.

“To provoke us. To get you and the team to clash.” Rossi tells you like he did before.

“Yes, I get that. But why _now_?”

Spencer sighs and Isaacs get up to get some coffee.

Hotchner and JJ keep shooting each other looks. It confuses you. They also check the time more often than usual. It’s only half past nine and they. Why would they have to look at the clock this often?

“Maybe because he knew we were closing in on him?” Hotchner eventually proposes.

Spencer raises his head and Morgan asks: “Closing in on him? He gave us the tip.”

“We didn’t know where he was before that.” Spencer adds.

Hotchner opens his mouth to say something but steps behind him make him shut up. You assume it’s Isaacs with the coffee. But no.

When you turn your head to look at the door, you see a dead woman walking.


	32. Burn It Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fluff; canon-typical-drama; emotional distress; more drama]

„What the fuck?“ You hear Morgan whisper.

You stare at the woman in pure disbelieve. You’ve seen the pictures. You read the report. This woman was buried. They carried this woman to her grave.

As soon as you realized who it is, you turn your head to look at Spencer. He stiffly sits in the chair next to you, not saying a word.

Then you understand why JJ and Hotchner kept looking at the clock.

“You knew?” You break the silence.

Hotchner looks at you for a second, it’s enough to confirm that you’re right.

“Hi.” Prentiss finally says.

Isaacs reenters the room and hands you your coffee.

“What’s going on?” He doesn’t recognize Prentiss at first. Then his eyes dart between her and her picture on the whiteboard. “What the…”

You swallow hard. You’re overwhelmed and don’t know what to feel. Surprise? Happiness? Anger? Everything hits you at once. They faked her death so that she could hunt Doyle without him suspecting it.

Prentiss walks over to the whiteboard and explains: “I was following Doyle back into the States when he realized that someone was hunting him. He still doesn’t know it was me.”

You see that Spencer isn’t listening at all. His eyes dart around the room and his hands are clenched into fists. When you take his hand under the table, he turns his head, and you see everything you feel in his eyes as well. He looks so hurt. 

“You’re alive?” He whispers. It’s barely audible but everyone heard him.

“It was a decision we needed to make in the moment. We sent Prentiss to Paris to recover and then she started to track down Doyle.” Hotchner explains calmly.

Everyone is way too stunned to ask more questions.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The next few hours you keep working like it were normal to see and hear Prentiss in the same room. You notice Spencer repeatedly raising his head to check if she’s still there before looking back at the files. It’s probably the most bizarre thing you ever witnessed.

When you step outside for a minute, Prentiss follows you. You shook hands earlier but didn’t exchange a single word.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” She walks down the stairs with you.

Your lips tighten when you turn around. Prentiss is standing close to you, her eyes darting over your face as if she hopes to find answers in your expression.

“Be my guest.” You tell her.

“Doyle sent you to destroy the team?”

“That’s what he stated in the interview.”

“He planned to have you replace me?”

You have to take a deep breath: “Why are you asking me these questions? You read the file.”

Prentiss blinks at your harsh tone.

“I-I actually wanted…” She sighs and props her hands up on her waist, looking at her shoes.

“What?” You snap at her. “You mad that I was sent to fuck up this team even though you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself?”

Her head shoots up: “I didn’t make this decision.”

“Neither did you oppose it.”

You don’t let her off the hook by walking away. Instead, you stare at her until she meets your gaze.

“I just wanted to ask how Spencer is doing. He won’t talk to me.”

You lean towards her and sneer: “What did you expect?”

“Okay, I get it Byrne!” Prentiss takes a step back. “It wasn’t ideal, but you have no idea what I went through.”

“What you went through?!” You yell at her. “Do you have ANY idea what you did to Spencer?”

“I lost everyone as well!” Prentiss defends herself. “Doyle made it impossible for me to be around the people I care for the most.”

You realize that she won’t back down. She has to believe what she says, or it will make the thought of doing this to her friends unbearable.

Calmly, you tell her: “You don’t have a monopoly on having your life fucked up by Ian Doyle.”

Before she can answer, Hotchner comes around the corner and you both fall silent, taking a step away from each other.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

You’re just around the corner when you hear Spencer saying agitated: “I cried in your arms for two months because my friend died! And you didn’t say anything! You watched me suffer.” Spencer is standing in the hallway, talking to JJ.

“I think you’re mad because Hotch and I managed to control our micro expressions when we were in the hospital.” She undermines him.

“You’re my best friend, JJ. I don’t understand…” You hear Spencer’s voice tremble.

That’s enough. You walk towards them and say: “It’s late. Let’s go.”

When Spencer sees you, his facial expression immediately softens. After looking at JJ again, he nods: “Okay.”

You don’t even pay heed to JJ. Handing Spencer his bag, you swing your own over your shoulder and walk to the elevator. Rossi gets in with you. Everyone looks at each other for a moment but then you just stand there in silence, staring at the silver walls of the elevator.

Letting the engine roar to life, you aggressively move the stick shift and speed off.

“How are you feeling?” You ask Spencer while slowly working your way through the evening traffic.

“I don’t know.” He sighs.

“What’s the first thing you felt when you saw Prentiss?”

“Confusion.”

The traffic light turns green and you concentrate on driving before you ask: “And then?”

Spencer is staring out of the window, tapping his fingers on his thigh.

“In most cases, when confronted with something one believed to…” He starts to ramble.

“Spencer.” You interrupt him.

He abruptly stops fidgeting and clears his voice.

“Anger.” He eventually admits.

Nodding, you park the car in front of his apartment.

Upstairs, you help him take off his jacket. You can see the shock slowly setting in. Now that he lets go of his work persona, the truth finally settles in. Spencer’s hands are shaking when he tries to open the laces of his Converse. Gently, you push him towards the sofa and make him sit down. Then you kneel down next to him and help him take off his shoes. While you put them away, Spencer hastily takes off his vest and shirt.

“What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Spencer gets up and pulls you towards him by grabbing your belt. His breath is hot on your face and you see his pupils dilate. Your pulse picks up in speed when he roughly grabs your hair and presses his lips onto yours.

Putting your hand on the side of his face, you reciprocate the kiss while caressing his cheek.

“Spencer.” You whisper when he starts to kiss down the side of your neck. “We cannot have sex whenever you don’t want to confront your emotions.”

“Why?” He mumbles against your skin. “I apparently get aroused by stress.”

You chuckle and grab his chin to tilt his head up so that you can kiss him.

“Of course, that’s why you have this job. You are used to immediately understanding everything. It’s exciting when you don’t.”

His eyes widen: “Oh.”

You press a kiss to his lips. Grabbing his hand, you walk towards the bedroom.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer is drawing circles on your upper arm while staring at the ceiling.

“I didn’t ask how you felt.” He suddenly states.

“When I saw Prentiss?”

You feel him nod.

“Mostly angry. But also worried.”

“About what?”

“You.”

The room falls silent again and you put your head back on his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

When your eyes get tired, you lift your head and ask: “What are you going to do?”

Spencer turns his head: “About what?”

“Well…everything.”

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like I don’t know anything.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stare back into his eyes.

A small smile creeps onto his lips when he says: “I know that I love you though.”

Leaning closer, you tell him: “Know that I love you too.”

You press a kiss to his temple and scoot back over so that you can properly lay down to fall asleep next to Spencer.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Groaning, you turn off the alarm.

When you look at Spencer you see his red eyes.

“Did you sleep?”

“A few hours.”

Sitting up, you take his hand and kiss the back of it. The dark circles around his eyes are even darker than usual. “Did you have nightmares?”

He shakes his head: “Your smell somehow keeps the nightmares at bay.”

“My smell?”

Spencer nods: “Everyone has a unique scent. I recognize yours.”

You shake your head but smile and tell him: “You smell like cashews, and coffee, and the washing powder with a light lavender scent that you use...”

He blinks at you in surprise and his cheeks flush. You can see in his eyes how much it means to him that you are this attentive.

Then you see his face fall when he remembers why you even talked about this. It makes your heart ache. The rest of the morning and on the way to work you silently agree to focus on the case.

The morning goes by quickly. Prentiss and Hotchner went to interview Doyle. You can imagine how that must have been for Doyle. Spencer and you try to focus on the work but with every minute it gets more difficult for him to keep it together.

Eventually, his lips start to tremble, and you see how he clenches his jaw in an effort to stop himself from crying. When he sees Prentiss and Hotchner come back, he lets out a quiet sob. You roll your chair over and try to comfort him without touching him in front of everyone. But your calming words are in vain.

Looking around the bullpen, you see Morgan work on something. Rossi and JJ are apparently in their own offices. And Prentiss and Hotchner are walking up to the conference room. You decide that you need to be Spencer’s girlfriend and not just his collogue right now.

Grabbing his arm, you pull him over to you. He lets you put one hand on the back of his neck and the other around him. Spencer leans against your chest and tries to calm his breathing while you whisper affirmations.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

You hear Hotchner clear his voice but ignore him. When Spencer lifts his head, you quietly encourage him: “Tell him how you feel about this.”

You get up and lean against your desk. Hotchner, of course, has a stern look on his face and his arms crossed.

“Hotch, I-“ Spencer starts.

“I told you before that I do not condone relationships between my agents.”

“She was comforting me!” It’s the first time you hear Spencer raise his voice at Hotchner. It makes everyone turn their heads. Rossi and JJ, who just walked in, halt in their movements. You were already boiling inside about how Hotchner behaved - now he’s making you see red.

Spencer tries to say something again; but again, Hotchner interrupts him to talk about the case.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You yell at him.

That makes Hotchner turn towards you, and you can basically hear the entire FBI inhale sharply.

“First you put him through hell, and now you have the _audacity_ to treat him like this?!”

“Watch it, Byrne.” Is all he replies.

“Watch what? How you make more questionable decisions that endanger the mental health of _your_ entire team?”

Hotchner takes a step closer. You can feel the room vibrate and everyone holding their breaths.

“We did what was necessary.”

“Fuck up a child prodigy, is what you did!”

Your voice is rough, and all the bottled-up anger is bursting out of you.

You see Hotchner twitch at your words. He knows that you’re right.

“I’ll tell you one last time: stand down, agent.” His voice is calm, but you hear his fury in every syllable.

Dismissively, you click your tongue and go to walk away.

“Go home.” Hotchner adds. “Don’t proof your psych eval right by…”

That’s your breaking point. All the hatred and anger freely flows through you. You cannot hear another self-assured, smug word out of his mouth.

You swing around and punch Hotchner in the face.

The force sends him flying onto your desk, smashing your hourglass.

The room collectively gasps.

When he gets back up, he is holding his face and looks at you in pure disbelieve and shock. You get right in his face and growl: “Fuck you. And fuck this place. I quit.”


	33. Daring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and You have to deal with the consequences of you quitting your job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fluff; extensive smut; canon-typical-drama]

It was surprisingly easy to find a new job. Apparently, for some people, punching your boss in the face is a display of integrity. Anyways, you got recruited within a week. They appreciate your experience you gained by working at the DEA and the BAU. They also appreciate the work you’ve done overseas before.

You didn’t see Spencer much after your dramatic exit. You didn’t want to. You don’t regret punching Hotchner. You regret doing it in front of Spencer. After all, Hotchner is as close to a father as it gets for him. 

Closing the last box, you let out a loud sigh. Your clothes are in a suitcase and a backpack. The furniture stays in the apartment. That leaves your books. Which you are currently loading into the trunk of your car. You can’t stay here any longer. After everything that went down. You have to put physical distance between you and all of that.

You purposefully prolong the drive to Spencer’s apartment. He doesn’t know yet.

With the box full of books in your arms you climb up the stairs to his apartment.

“Hey.” He gives you a warm smile. Pointing at the box, he asks: “What’s that about?”

You press a kiss onto his lips and walk past him into the living room.

Putting the box down, you tell him: “I got a job.”

“That’s great! Where?”

“CIA.”

“Oh, wow!” Spencer walks over and gives you a hug. You press your face into the crook of his neck.

“Congratulations.” He whispers while caressing the back of your head.

“Thank you.” You put your arms around him and hold him tight.

Slowly rocking back and forth, you ask: “How’s work?”

“Weird.” Spencer tells you and leans back to look at you. “The team misses you.”

You raise your eyebrows: “I highly doubt that.”

He shrugs his shoulders: “It’s true.”

Spencer sees the worry in your eyes and asks: “What’s going on? Why did you bring your books?”

“I’m moving.”

“Oh.” He takes a step back. “Because of your new position?”

You nod. After a pause, you add: “Will you come with me? I’m sure they’ll hire you on the spot.”

Spencer looks at you and sits down on his sofa. Silently, he stares at the floor. Sitting down next to him, you observe his facial expressions.

“I never thought about working somewhere else.”

“Even after what they did to you?”

He raises his gaze: “The BAU is the only thing I know.”

Nodding, you take his hand: “I’m sorry for how I acted. I didn’t mean to let you down…I didn’t plan on quitting my job like this and leaving you behind.”

Spencer tilts his head: “You stood up for me.”

“I made you think about if you should side with me or with Hotchner.”

He shakes his head: “That was never a question.”

“But he’s basically your dad.”

Spencer chuckles: “And you think I would side with my _dad_ and not my girlfriend?”

“Apparently.” You rub your face.

After a pause, Spencer says: “I will think about it.”

“About what?”

“If I want to leave the BAU.”

Your mouth falls open. You didn’t really believe that he would actually consider it. You just couldn’t have lived with yourself if you didn’t at least ask him.

“Okay.” You smile. Leaning forward, you kiss him again. This time with longing, and wet lips, and your hands buried in his hair. Spencer sighs into your mouth and scoots closer to touch you.

“I love you.” You whisper when you lean back to look into his eyes.

His face lightens up and you see his eyes sparkle.

“I love you.” Spencer tells you and traces your cheekbone with his thumb.

You slowly start to get up.

“Let me know when you decided what you are going to do.”

“I will. But why can’t you stay over? Do you have to leave now?” He gets up as well.

You take the keys for your car out of your pocket and press them into his hand.

Spencer seems confused but takes them.

“So that you don’t have to take the metro.”

He smiles for a second and plays with the keys.

“Don’t you need it yourself?”

You shake your head, your heart so heavy you might collapse.

“Ah, they probably won’t allow you to use a private car, won’t they? At least I can visit you easier like this…How far away is it anyways? Should I stay over the weekends? We can make a schedule, as far as our jobs allow it.” He starts to ramble.

“Spencer.” You interrupt, swallowing hard. “I’m being deployed overseas.” 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been two months and the only reason you’re still alive is your work and your weekly phone calls with Spencer. You get a prepaid every time to ensure it won’t be traced. He always picks up, no matter where he is or what time.

“Emily?” He always asks.

“Yeah.”

Then you spend about twenty minutes talking. Sometimes less when he’s on a case.

“Where are you today?”

“Ten miles outside of Moscow.”

You ask him as many questions as possible. Just so that you can hear his voice, his smile when he tells you something interesting about the current case, how he’s doing and what book you two should read next. You keep up the tradition as a way to feel connected. When you turn the pages, you imagine how Spencer’s eyes wander over the same letters.

Today he’s less talkative than usual.

“Did something happen?” You ask.

“Sometimes when I drive,” he starts, “I smell you in the car and start talking to you because I think you are there.”

You let out a sob and tears start to run down your cheeks immediately.

“When I’m reading the books, we…” Your voice breaks and you have to take a few deep breaths before you can continue. “I often read out loud as if I were reading to you.”

You hear Spencer’s staggered breath and close your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him. “I tried everything to…to make you feel loved and not alone…and now…I’m sorry.”

“I’m not alone.” He objects.

“I know…You have Prentiss back. And the rest of the team. Like it is supposed to be.”

“Em, I-“

“Reid!” You hear Hotchner call in the background.

“Go, before he makes you take the gun license test again.”

That coaxes a chuckle out of Spencer.

“Talk to you next week?”

“Of course.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

You furrow your eyebrows when you get the message that you’re supposed to pick up a package at London Heathrow. A courier brought you an envelope with a single piece of paper in it, informing you about the details.

It’s not unusual to get a message that way. But it’s the first time you get mission like this. Shrugging your shoulders, you start to prepare. Strapping your vest around your chest and hiding it under your sweater and jacket, putting your weapons in place around your ankles and behind your back. You check how you look in the mirror. Your hair looks so different now. It’s longer. You miss your undercut.

As always, there is a key for a car deposited at the reception. You get it and find the SUV parked outside. Quickly, you get in and check the security the Agency has in place at Heathrow. There should be at least three other agents in the perimeter.

The name of the package is Walter and they apparently know what car to look for. So, you just park outside the terminal and lean against hood. A look at the clock tells you that they should arrive any minute.

You observe your surroundings and notice another agent to your left, apparently being silent backup. Giving them a small nod, you turn back to the exit of the terminal.

A good-looking man walks out a minute later. Tall, lean, wavy hair on top and the sides cut short. The sunglasses he is wearing make him even hotter and – damn! – those cheekbones. Blinking repeatedly, you try to focus on your actual job. But then he walks towards you. No way that that’s the package!

You furrow your eyebrows when he comes closer. He kind of looks like…

“Spencer!?”

He jogs the last meters towards you and lets the travel bag he carried fall down next to you, ripping the sunglasses off his face.

“Em!” Spencer calls with a high-pitched voice just when he falls into your arms.

“Oh my…what the…” You stutter while pressing him against you.

His smell is intoxicating and his cheek touching yours sends waves of warmth through your body.

You stand there in silence for over a minute, just holding each other close. Your eyes tearing up, you grab his head with both hands so that you can look into his eyes. His beautiful eyes that are darting all over your face.

You let your hand wander through his hair to confirm that he’s really standing in front of you. Spencer gently clasps your jaw and tilt it up. Then he kisses you. It’s the most diffident kiss. Slowly, you part your lips and move them with his.

“Spencer Walter Reid.” You mumble when you lean back. “I should have known.”

He chuckles: “Wouldn’t have been a big of a surprise then, wouldn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” You caress the side of his face. “How the hell did you manage to sneak into being one of my missions? Did Garcia hack the CIA?” You laugh.

Spencer shakes his head: “As you said: They hired me in a heartbeat.”

Your mouth falls open: “You left the BAU to work at the Agency?”

“Hmh.” He nods before tilting his head to kiss you again.

“We should go.” You whisper. “One of our colleagues is watching.”

“Ah yes. The _I don’t condone relationships between my Agents_ problem.” Spencer grins and explains: “We have a job where that isn’t a problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our next mission.”

“ _Our_ next mission?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Throwing the keycard to the Hilton-Suite you’ve been staying in on the table, you tell Spencer: “Make yourself at home.”

“Had I known I get to stay in these kinds of hotels, I would have come earlier.”

You chuckle and take off your sweater, starting to get rid of your vest and weapons.

Spencer observes: “Ah, I was wondering since when your chest had become this tough.”

Smiling, you open the safe to put everything inside. Then you put your hair up in a messy bun and eye Spencer up and down.

“You look really good.”

He takes off his jacket and drapes it over his bag.

“Thanks, but have you seen yourself?”

“What?”

“I almost fainted when I saw you next to the car.”

“Sure, Lover Boy.”

Spencer shakes his head and steps closer again.

“I missed you so much.” He admits.

“I missed you more.”

He presses a kiss to your lips.

“Should we go eat downstairs?” You ask.

“Yes, please.”

Holding hands, you walk to the adjacent restaurant and luckily get a table immediately.

After you ordered, you ask: “When you’re here, where’s my car? And your books?”

“I had everything moved to a storage room I rented.”

You nod and take a sip of your drink.

“When did you decide to leave the BAU?”

“Pretty quickly. But it took me some time to actually do it. I felt like…I felt like I would let the team down.”

You take his hand: “What changed?”

Spencer rubs his thumb over the back of your hand: “I realized that I’m letting myself down – and you for that matter – if I stayed. To work at the BAU is not the right thing for me anymore; and I want to do the right thing, not what the others want me to do.”

“You’re amazing. This was a difficult thing to do. I’m proud of you.”

His cheeks flush a little: “Thank you. Most of the others were very supportive.”

“Most?”

Spencer clears his voice: “Hotchner said that I would regret leaving the BAU to be with you.”

“But you didn’t leave just to be with me, did you?”

“No. I mean- I thought about it because of you. But I did it because I wanted to.”

You only let go of his hand when the food arrives. After eating in silence for a minute, you want to know: “What’s our mission?”

“Ah, right.” Spencer swallows the food in his mouth. “Long term undercover in Sweden.”

“No way.” You shake your head. “How did you get that job?”

“They _really_ wanted me to work for them.”

“So, they let you choose?”

“Kind of.”

“And why Sweden?”

“I’d like to meet Saga.” He smiles. “And you speaking Swedish was a good argument.”

“When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Your apartment in Malmö is breathtaking. Probably more expensive than Spencer and you could have afforded under normal circumstances. After unpacking your clothes, the first thing you did was go to the next bookstore that sells novels in English. You get back with a ridiculously large bag and fill two boards of the shelf.

“Was living together a requirement or did you ask for it?” You ask grinning when you sit down to drink some coffee.

Spencer takes a sip and avoids eye-contact for a moment.

“Was it?” You poke his side.

“Hey!” He twitches and spills some coffee on his shirt.

“Since we’re pretending to be a couple…I mean, we are a couple…but our cover is to be one as well…it’s more convincing to live together.”

“Hmh.” You narrow your eyes. “That wasn’t the question.”

“Yeah…” Spencer eventually admits. “I asked for it.”

“Good.” You grab his arm and pull on it until he crawls onto you.

“Good?” He questions, lowering his head towards your face.

You just smile brightly and put your hand on the back of his neck. He gets the message and bows down further to kiss you. Since you didn’t see each other for several months, it still feels kind of new. In a way, it is. You never kissed on this sofa. You never kissed in front of the bookstore. You never walked the way to your new home holding hands.

You also never…

“You spilled coffee on your shirt. You should take it off before it leaves a permanent stain.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you for reminding me.” Spencer smirks and starts to take off his clothes. “You were pretty close when I spilled it. Some probably landed on your pants. Better be safe than sorry and take them off as well.”

“Yeah, probably.” You grin and get up to open the zipper.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Almost violently, Spencer pushes you onto the bed. You exhale loudly in surprise and let out a giggle. Only wearing his boxers now, he follows you, letting his hand wander up your thigh.

“Maker, I missed you.” You sigh when you feel his warm skin on yours.

Spencer kisses up the side of your neck while he grabs the hem of your panties and pulls them down. Your hand flies to his crotch and he lets out a moan when you palm his hard dick.

Spencer takes his hand away from your core to put his middle and ring finger to your lips. You open your mouth and suck on them when he pushes them inside. He lets out another groan.

His now thoroughly wetted fingers run through your folds, momentarily rubbing your clit, before he slowly inserts them into you. Your head falls back, and you let out a sigh. Curling his fingers, Spencer starts to slowly move them while his lips find yours again. Your kisses start to get rougher, and you nibble on his lower lip a few times.

Eventually, you move your leg and Spencer takes his hand away. With a quick movement, you take off your panties completely and throw them off the bed. Then you do the same to Spencer’s boxers. You hear his breathing fasten when you push his legs apart a little and settle between them. Caressing his sides with your hands, you kiss up his thigh. First the right, then the left one.

When you see Spencer claw into the sheets, you finally grab his dick, causing him to inhale sharply. Licking up his entire shaft, you look into his eyes. You can basically see his pupils getting wider and his cheeks getting redder by the second. Determined to make him moan, you suck on the tip of his cock before pushing it all the way down your throat.

The sound that draws out of him makes you hum around his dick. You bob your head up and down until his hands fly to your head and he tugs on your hair. Letting go of his dick, you crawl up to meet his lips again. Spencer slowly flips you over until he is on top of you.

When he makes his way down to your core, you grab his hand to stop him.

“Spence, I really enjoy that…but please fuck me. Now.”

He freezes in his movements and looks up at you: “You sure? I want to return the favor.”

“Since we’re living together now, you will get a lot of chances to do that.” You murmur.

That makes him more or less fly back up and line himself up with your entrance. Propped up on his forearms, he slowly pushes himself into you, making you both let out an obscene moan. After letting you adjust to his size for a moment, Spencer starts to roll his hips.

“Fuck…” You half sigh, half moan. “Your dick is perfect.” You mumble.

Spencer inhales loudly at the compliment and speeds up his movements, his right hand finding your clit. “Oh!” Your eyes fly open.

Not having sex with anyone besides yourself for some time makes you extra sensitive. You bend your legs, allowing Spencer to plow deeper into you. His gorgeous face close to yours, you feel his hot breath on the side of your neck. You both are panting by now.

You start to move your hips in sync with Spencer’s to create more friction. He takes his hand away from your clit and puts it around your neck instead. Groaning at the sensation, you claw into his back.

When you feel your orgasm rise, you push Spencer off you with both hands. He immediately falls onto his back, grabbing your hair. You let him pull you up until you can press a kiss on his swollen lips.

Straddling his lap, you drag you core over his dick a few times. It makes Spencer’s thighs tense, and you see the pleading in his eyes. Smiling, you grab his dick and tilt it up until you can sink down on it. It makes you moan, and your eyes fall shut again. Spencer grabs both of your tits and squeezes them roughly.

You start to roll your hips and feel your orgasm rise again. Your movements get sloppier but also more forceful. When you feel Spencer tense beneath you, you open your eyes and lean down to bite into his shoulder. It makes him moan again.

In this position it’s easier for you to drag your clit through his pubic hair and add stimulation. Spencer throws his arms around you and scratches down your back. He feels you tighten around him, and how your walls start to spasm.

“Cum for me.” He tells you with a husky voice.

Spencer talking like this feels so intimate. No one else ever heard him say something like that. And it drives you wild.

You cum around him. So hard that you fear you might crush his dick. Slapping the headboard, you let out a series of moans, repeatedly saying Spencer’s name in between them.

Your legs turn rigid and your breathing staggers. The white noise of your hammering pulse in your ears, you slow down your movements. When you feel how Spencer holds onto you even tighter, you know that he’s cumming too.

“Oh, god, Em.” He breathes out and moans into your ear.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Absentmindedly, you draw circles on Spencer’s arm while he is caressing your thigh. After you both quickly freshened up in the bathroom, you instantly crawled back into the sheets.

You’re both somewhat jetlagged – Spencer even more than you – and what you just did made you even more tired; even though it’s barely getting dark outside.

Eventually, Spencer turns on his side to look at you. Lifting your arm, you put your hand on the side of his face. You see him lean into your touch. It makes you realize how touch-starved both of you are after months of being apart.

“I’m so happy, you are here.” You tell Spencer.

It makes him smile brightly: “I’m really glad you arrested my dealer.”

That makes you laugh out loud, and your head fall back.

“You’re welcome.” You chuckle.

“Come here.” Spencer opens his arms, inviting you to curl into his side.

You scoot closer and inhale deeply when you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“I’m really happy I’m here too.” He whispers.

You hum at his words and close your eyes. Just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, Spencer clears his voice: “Are you asleep?”

“Not fully.”

You feel him smile.

“Do you remember our conversation when you were in Moscow? I told you I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You nod: “I remember.”

“I was talking about you. When I said I am not alone, I was never talking about the team. Maybe it was supposed to be that way: Having Prentiss back, the team together again…But things change. I changed. And I’m glad I did – with your help…It might have been supposed to be another way…” Spencer pulls you closer. “But sometimes the story has to be re-written.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the story.  
> Thank you everyone for your kind comments, they truely mean the world to me.


End file.
